Redemption
by Teeheehee123
Summary: Fear will hold you prisoner, but hope...hope can set you free. *Third entry in the When Two Worlds Collide series*
1. Chapter 1

**But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.  
Matthew 7:14  
**

* * *

"Hey, my friend. It's been too long."

He bent down, wincing when he heard his knees creaking. It was time to face facts; he simply wasn't getting any younger. What had happened to those days when everything seemed so simple and easy, those days when it felt as if you could live forever?

Those days were gone, long gone. The cruel and harsh reality was that life was unforgiving in its twists and turns, one minute you would be sure of your path and purpose in life, the next you would be thrown to the ground, knocked off your feet by some unseen danger, one that you were too blind or naïve to see coming.

People who said life was easy were either fools or liars, perhaps even a mixture of the two. Life was a game full of hard knocks and tough choices; it was only a lucky few that would be able to attain true happiness, and even fewer who would be able to keep a hold of it. Happiness was a devil in disguise, fooling people into thinking that he would stay around forever, convincing them that he was solid and tangible, tempting you to reach out and touch him. Quick as a flash, he would change, slipping through your fingers, dripping away like water from a leaking roof, until he was gone completely, skipping away merrily to the next unsuspecting victim.

Like the loved one of an addict, happiness would eventually come crawling back, begging for forgiveness, promising that he would stay forever, that he would change. He would promise that this time it would be different, that this time it would last. A smarter man would have turned away, turned his back on deception, yet he would not. He could not.

There was something so alluring about the prospect of happiness, its embrace was warm and gentle, soothing like a cooling breeze on a summer's day, providing relief when needed. Happiness was a soothing balm for a troubled soul, slowly melting away the jagged edges of a frozen heart. Happiness, he could be such a good friend….

Then why was it that his fickle companion refused to stay?

Each time that he thought that he had a grip on happiness, it would fade away just as quickly as it had appeared in the first place, never stopping for too long before leaving again. What was it about him that repelled happiness so?

Were the things that he'd done really that bad? What was it that caused him to spread his misery to the people that he loved too?

He closed his eyes as he pictured his dear, sweet lover's face as he told her of his plans to leave. He watched helplessly as her face crumbled, her bottom lip trembling as the tears fell unbidden from her eyes. He'd tried to convey just how much he did love her, to explain the reasons why he had to go. He'd kissed her with all the love he could muster, wanting her to know the true depths of the feelings that he still held for her.

He'd spent most of the night sitting on the couch in his darkened house, finding solace once more in the obscurity that the dusk and early dawn granted him. There was no point in trying to sleep, each time he closed his eyes, he was haunted by her face, replaying over and over in his mind how he had hurt her with his actions and words.

It was a scene replayed throughout the night and in to the early hours of the morning as his tired mind churned it over and again, each time more upsetting than the last. Still, he'd made the right decision, hadn't he?

Even if he hadn't, there was no going back now. Like the Mary Celeste, his course was plotted and could never be changed. Only time would tell whether his rickety and damaged soul would once again make its way back to shore, or if he would forever be cast out on the waves, a vessel without a captain, a ship without direction, a man lost at sea.

Happiness may have been fleeting, but there was always hope, wasn't there?

Hope was the most faithful of friends, stalwart and dependant, a source of strength when he found himself weakening. Hope was a vivid ray of light, banishing the shadows back into the gloom where they belonged, pushing away the negativity to a place that was out of reach. Hope gave him the foresight to know that there was always another day, always a better day out there waiting for him….somewhere.

In his experience, hope had always come hand in hand with despair. Like two sides of the same coin, they would battle and vie for his attention, arguing between themselves as they made their presence known to him. Physically strong and emotionally stable, he would be able to silence the nagging voice of negativity within him, physically broken and emotionally battered, he would not. The voice in the back of his mind would chip away at him frequently; creating cracks in his already fragile psyche, making him believe that even hope too had now deserted him.

It was his good fortune then that hope was the feistiest of fellows. Never one to shirk a little hard work, hope would carry on regardless, busying itself like a worker ant, assured in its purpose and direction. Hope would not be swayed by negativity, nor would it be cowed by pain and despair. Hope would stand firm in the face of adversity, stand eye to eye with its opponents and never waver.

But the truth remained that he had been broken by what had been done to him, both physically and emotionally. He'd been stripped to the bone of everything that had made him the man that he thought that he was, no longer recognising the shell that had been left behind. He'd been weak by allowing despair to sink its poisonous claws into him, but a part of him was so tired, so very tired of fighting the good fight. A part of him longed for the comfort that wallowing in his pity allowed him, his depressive mindset never allowing him to put too much effort into anything.

Depression became a comfortable blanket in which he could clothe himself; it gave him a justification for behaving in a way that was so unlike the man of old. His ordeal had become an excuse which he could hide behind, using it as a reason to maintain his lowly position, making others believe that it was just too hard for him to do anything else.

He'd never been weak before, but the things that had been done to him had been more than he could bear at the time. The only way his tortured body and mind could cope was to shut down parts of him that he deemed unessential in an effort to lessen the strain that he was under. Sometimes, it was hard enough finding the physical strength and emotional fortitude to even get out of bed, the lure of unconsciousness always nagging at the back of his mind, convincing him that things were easier in the calming darkness of sleep.

And so parts of him became walled off, separated from what it was that made him a man, leaving him emotionally bereft in a sea of roiling chaos. He had fooled himself of his readiness to return to work, maintaining a shoddy façade as he attempted to reintegrate himself into a place that once seemed so familiar to him. He'd attempted to carry on as if nothing had changed, refusing to see the truth that had been staring him in the face for far too long.

He had changed, it was pointless to deny otherwise. Since his meeting with Lori, he'd been forced to take a long, hard look at himself and had been dismayed to find parts of himself wanting. He'd been foolish to think that his ex-wife had changed, foolish to believe that he needed anything that she had been offering. Yet the weak-willed part of him saw it as a reason to indulge once more in his fantasies, to believe, for just a few moments, that he was young and carefree. He'd known that becoming intimate with Lori was wrong, but a part of him wanted to do it anyway.

During his confession to Calleigh, he had been meek and feeble, nothing like the Horatio of before. He could see the worry written clearly on her face, he was falling apart in front of her, dragging the woman he loved down into the dirt with him. He wanted better for her than that; she deserved a man who was loyal, a man who wasn't so easily swayed by temptation.

He could have taken the easier path, he could have hidden behind the excuse that he'd been brutally abused by sadistic captors, that they'd broken the spirit of this fine man, that he would never again be the same. Calleigh had offered him nothing but love and support, never letting him be far from her gentle embrace, sending soothing words his way when he tripped and stumbled, again and again. A weak man would take hold of what she was offering and lose himself in it, convincing his mind that nothing could hurt him there.

But it was a lie, a fantasy.

He was not delusional and neither was he a fool. The Horatio of old was strength and steel, determination and fight, a man who would go into battle and not blink an eye. As his physical strength had wavered, so too had the essence of who he truly was. The flames of truth and justice that had once burned so brightly within him had been doused to nothing more than weakly smouldering embers. Yet there was still something there, something that could be reignited with the right spark, it was just a case of finding it.

But it was hope that kept the fires burning, hope that fortune and justice would favour the brave, favour the good and the true. His faith had been so very tested recently, there had been times when he truly believed that his courage had all but deserted him. There had been times when he'd felt so sorry for himself, so wrapped up in his own misery, that he had nearly been swallowed whole by it. Yet somehow he'd survived by the skin of his teeth, snatched away from the jaws of defeat by no more than the hair on his head.

Perhaps this was God's way of telling him to get off his ass, dust himself down, and get on with things. The standoff at Jeff's had shown him that the real Horatio was still there, lost somewhere deep inside under the cloud of perpetual misery that he himself had chosen.

He felt a flicker of a smile cross his face at the thought of the man upstairs completely losing patience with His wilful child, reaching His holy hand through the Heavens to smite some sense into him. He looked up to the sky briefly, it was another scorching hot day in Miami, the blue skies only broken by the occasional whisps of cloud, his hand above his eyes, he shielded himself from the harshness of the sun's rays.

It felt as if those very rays were God's way of telling him that the pressure was on, that His wayward child had been offered his last chance, that He would be watching and waiting, expecting results. He'd made a promise, not only to himself, but to Calleigh too, that he would do whatever it took to find his way back to the man that he once was. Even when the road became rocky, it would be hope that would sustain him, that and the faith that Calleigh had in him, those two things alone would be enough to see him through.

He only prayed that she didn't hate him right now. His words to her last night had been woefully inadequate; he'd failed to articulate just what it was that had driven him to reach this point. Could she ever understand that it was his burning desire to be the man that she deserved that had pushed him to make such a hard decision?

It had been one of the most difficult choices that he'd ever been forced to make. The temptation to give in and stay with her had almost been more than he could bear. Yet he knew the truth, if he stayed he would forever find himself locked in the cycle of pity and despair, indulging in his human weaknesses. The promise of peace and tranquillity would be too alluring; he'd want to stay in its warm grip for eternity.

But he was no coward either. The time had come to face reality, whether he liked it or not. The journey which he was about to take would either make him or break him, it was a journey he would have to make without his emotional crutch to fall back on. When that safety net was gone, there was nothing left to do but feel the fear and embrace it anyway. He would either rise from the ashes or sink ever deeper into the self-perpetuating pit of misery that was threatening to swallow him whole.

Life was a game of chance and choices, now both were running out on him. Too much time had passed as he convinced himself that he'd been too weak to stand up and fight. Too much time had been spent believing that no good would ever come from him. But he'd been given the choice, and the chance, to take a leap of faith, to venture into uncertainty, clinging to the hope that on the other side that there would be a better day. It was now or never, he would either sink or swim, the people around him would no longer be able to help.

This was a journey that this time, he would have to make on his own.


	2. Chapter 2

Lost in his thoughts, he had momentarily forgotten his reason for visiting here in the first place. As he looked down, he saw the flowers beside him and realised what it was that he had set out to do when he'd left the house at dawn this morning.

Taking two of the roses from the bouquet, he rested them gently against the headstone of his fallen friend, shaking his head in dismay at the overgrown mess of the man's final resting place. Old flowers that had been left previously had withered and died without the love and attentiveness of one of the living to tend to it, the grave appeared forgotten and uncared for.

Well, that just wouldn't do. He would not leave this place until the gross oversight had been corrected. Leaning forward, he began to pull at the grass and weeds that were threatening to consume the headstone of the man that he had cared for deeply. He began tearing at the reedy weeds with abandon, feeling the catharsis that removing them brought, feeling the symbolic nature of pulling out that which threatened to consume, both the grave and his own heart.

His mission complete, he leaned back on his haunches and surveyed his handiwork, pleased to find that the headstone seemed cleaner, newer somehow. He hadn't realised how much effort he'd put into his actions until he felt his chest heave and his brow glisten with the effort.

Carelessly wiping away at the perspiration, he spoke once more to his dear friend. "I'm sorry that I didn't get here sooner, Tim," he said as he adjusted the roses against the cool marble stone that marked Tim Speedle's final resting place. "Things have been a bit...shitty lately." He laughed at his own understatement, shitty didn't even come close to describing the nightmare that his life had turned into.

Suddenly, he was taken by the notion that Speed would frown, in that special way that only he could, puzzled by the fact that his old boss was laying flowers on his grave. Tim Speedle was a man's man, a person of few words or emotions, more often than not conveying what was on his mind by the slightest of twitches of his facial muscles. There was something terribly non-masculine about men bringing men flowers. Stoic men didn't do such things, they conveyed their emotions with a stiff handshake or pat on the back, not with flowers and tears.

"Tim, I have to leave Miami for a while. I don't know for how long, but I want you to do something for me, ok?" He spoke to the unmoving stone as if it would suddenly answer him back. "I want you to watch over them…..keep them safe. Can you do that for me?"

He suddenly felt foolish for talking to a dead man, it wasn't as if Tim were going to suddenly rise from the grave and answer him back. He'd been dead for years, his earthly body now no more than fragile bones, buried beneath masses of dirt. As if by some kind of divine intervention, he felt the slightest of breezes kiss his face and ruffle his hair. He smiled to himself, choosing to believe that his request had been answered. Some might have called him irrational for considering it as a sign from above, but he chose to believe that his faith in the greater good was stronger than the words of naysayers. His beliefs, his faith, that which would sustain him through what was to come. To have neither was to have nothing at all.

Gradually pulling himself to his feet, he dusted the dirt from his jeans, collecting the rest of the flowers as he rose. Taking a few steps, he rested his hand on the headstone as he spoke, "I have to go, Tim. There are things that I have to do…..I know you understand…..But I promise you that I will be back, ok? I want you to take care for me…..I know you can do that….You take care for me, ok?"

He cleared his throat quickly, feeling the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. He'd said his piece, it was time to move on. Walking for what seemed like miles, he eventually found his way to her grave, giving her a sad smile as he lowered himself to the ground and rested his back against the cold stone.

On the drive over to the cemetery, he had worked out perfectly in his mind what it was that he would say to her, now he felt those words desert him. God, he had no idea where to start, perhaps at the beginning was best.

"Marisol…..I miss you….." he found the words failing him again. Why couldn't he just say what it was that he was feeling?

"Things had been falling apart since…since the shooting…things were getting out of control and I couldn't stop it. But there was someone there…every day since I woke up in that hospital….taking care of me…..loving me. I've fallen in love with her, Marisol…I've fallen so hopelessly in love with her."

He closed his eyes as he pictured Calleigh's beautiful face next to his, lying in his arms, feeling the warmth that radiated from every pore of her. "You told me…you told me to be happy….that my work wasn't done yet, I just had no idea how hard that work was going to be, sweetheart. But she…..she makes it all seem worthwhile…..she makes it seem as if I can be happy…..eventually. I haven't felt that way in such a long time…..not since…..not since you."

He winced at his own words, frustrated at his inability to articulate his complex feelings to her. "I want you to know that I'll never forget you, nor the time we shared together, no matter how brief it was. I can't live in the past any longer, Marisol…I have to move forwards….I have to. This is my last chance…..I have to take it, there's no other choice."

He sat there for the longest time, his eyes closed as he felt the warmth of the Miami sun on his worn features, feeling the gentle heat infuse his body gradually, the rejuvenating rays of the sun imbuing him with the strength to do what was right, do what was needed. The warmth of the sun was so like the warmth of the innocent young woman that had fallen so madly in love with him all those years ago. It was a sign.

She understood.

He cracked an eye open and realised that the flowers were still in his hand. Raising himself to his feet, he laid them gently on the neatly trimmed grass that surrounded her grave. Eric had been here recently, that much was obvious. The two of them had always made it a priority to tend to her spot with military precision, keeping it neat and tidy, beautiful like the woman herself. It was no less than she deserved. The white petals of the roses seemed brighter as they glistened in the sunlight, their colour reflecting the innocence of the woman who had been taken from this earth far before her time.

Perhaps he had bought them for another reason too, white signified peace, and somehow it was symbolic of the war he had been waging within himself. Was he unconsciously telling himself that he was willing to call a ceasefire between the two warring halves of his psyche? That he wanted, no, that he needed that harmony?

He stood, staring at her grave, searching for the answers.

"Eric told me I might find you here."

The gruff voice made him jump visibly as he turned to see the bulky figure of Andy Sipowicz standing behind him. "What do you want, Andy?" he asked quietly, tired of playing games and second-guessing people. He had no doubt that word had spread of his desertion of the woman that he had claimed to love, what he really didn't need right now was a lecture on it.

If the balding man was offended by his friend's words, he didn't show it. "I stopped by the Lab….spoke to Calleigh." He left the sentence unfinished, hoping that John would step in and fill in the blanks. Words were not forthcoming from the younger man. "She says you left."

Andy's tone held no hint of accusation, more curiosity than anything. But the words were true, there could be no denying the fact that he had packed his bags and left the one person who had stood by him through everything. He nodded his head, once more feeling shame for his hurtful actions towards her.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

He snorted at that. "No, not really. She probably hates me right now," he admitted as he hung his head, feeling his earlier sense of hope dwindling as images of last night flooded his mind.

"She's disappointed and a little hurt, but she doesn't hate you. She loves you."

"I love her too, but I can't be around her right now. I don't know how to make her understand that without hurting her." He looked at Andy helplessly, trying to find the answers that he was so desperately searching for.

Andy suddenly felt awkward, he'd never been any good at these types of conversations. There would invariably come a time when he would put his foot in it, say something inappropriate or offensive that would anger the other person. He shrugged his shoulders and shuffled his feet, kicking at the dirt beneath them. "Give her time, kid. She'll understand. For some reason she loves you…..God knows why." He gave his old friend a small smile, hoping to soften the words that had fallen unbidden from his mouth.

He looked shocked momentarily, almost offended, until that cheeky little grin crossed his face. It was a smile that lit the man up, changing his dour features into that of someone who seemed years younger and so much more innocent than the tortured man of recent memory. "I don't know why either," he answered finally, "I'm just glad she does."

He could feel the mood lift slightly as the two of them fell back into the friendly banter that had defined so much of their early relationship as partners. "You shouldn't be picky either, kid, there's not much of a market for gangly ginger chumps out there, you know."

"At least I _still_ have my hair, you grumpy old bastard," the younger man shot back as Andy heard for the first time something that he feared he would never hear again, a genuine chuckle from the man that he regarded as his own son.

It felt good to see John with a genuine smile on his face, Lord knows that it had been missing for long enough. There was still work to do, and plenty of it, but at least now there was a small spark of the man that he used to know, the guy that he used to have so much respect for, as a cop and as a man. John had been so bogged down in his pain and misery that it had been almost impossible to reach him recently. There were times when all he wanted to do was grab the stubborn man by the shirtfront and shake some sense into him.

But that night when he'd found him slumped against a wall, head in his hands, that had been the signal that he'd finally hit rock bottom. There had only been one other time that he had seen his partner at such a low ebb, but this time he had made the promise that he would be the friend that John needed, that he would not let him down. Not again.

Maybe his subsequent meltdown after meeting with Laura had been the final straw, the catalyst for him to pull his head from his backside, to stand up and fight like the man that they all knew him to be. Much like being an alcoholic, the words and pleadings of others could not force change upon a person, it had to be a realisation that they came to on their own. The choice to change was in that of the beholder alone, no one else could make that decision for them.

It seemed to him as if John had made that choice and he thanked the Heavens for that, he'd begun to despair of the younger man, fearing that he would stay weighed down in his own misery forever. But he had taken the first step and made that choice, at least now they had something that they could work with, some foundation that they could build from. Maybe there was hope for him, for both of them, after all.

He wasn't sure which the best way of putting it was, and so he blurted it out regardless. "I'm coming to New York with you." He was rewarded with John whipping his head around so fast to face him that it almost made him feel dizzy.

"Andy, this is my problem. I have to do this on my own."

"No, you don't. I was a shitty friend to you the last time we were both there, I'm not letting you go through it alone….not again." There was a bitterness in his tone, not at John, but at himself.

"Andy…."

"Jeeze, kid," the tubby man let out an exasperated sigh. "Will you just shut up and accept the fact that I'm coming with you?"

"But you don't have to…"

"No, but I want to. Your flight's booked for this afternoon?"

He watched as his old partner hung his head in defeat, nodding silently as his gaze hit the ground.

"Good, so is mine." He paused as he saw John lift his head up and open his mouth, readying himself to say something, he pulled a small item from his pants pocket and thrust it in his face. "Here, I got this for you."

John looked at him in puzzlement, he watched as he stared at the cell phone in his hands. "Where did you get this?"

"Your house. I lifted it when you weren't looking." Andy arched his eyebrow as his friend gave him a withering stare. "It's not like you were paying much attention at the time. Anyway, I thought you might need it, so I got it fixed for you.

"Andy, you didn't have to…."

"But I wanted to, so just shut up and accept it," he barked back, losing patience with his old partner and his infuriating notion that he was not worthy of the kindness of others. "Just accept that sometimes people want to do nice things for you, don't throw it back in their faces." The words were meant to be gently chiding.

He was rewarded with a wry smile from John. "Yes, sir."

He gave him a satisfied smile of his own. "Hell, I don't know about you, but I could murder a coffee and a bagel, what do you say?" He looked at John expectantly.

"Sure, why not?"

"Good. No offense, but graveyards give me the creeps, kinda like I'm tempting fate with Old Father Time, you know?"

The younger man said nothing except to shake his head and follow his old partner from the cemetery, casting one last look at Marisol before he left, hoping that she knew how much he still cared for her. But he had to leave, he had to leave this city for a time, to repair the wounds that his past had caused, to right the wrongs that he alone had committed. Only then would he be able to move on from all that held him prisoner. But surely she knew that this wasn't goodbye, this wasn't the end for them, merely a pause in proceedings. He would one day return to this very spot, perhaps with the news that he had made it, that he had finally achieved his goal and found the one thing that had proved elusive so far.

In his own way he had loved her, he always would, but what he had with Calleigh was different. She was the light to his dark, the other half of him, the better half of him, and the person who made him whole and complete. But he needed time and space to work on the part of him that he alone was in possession of, he was fractured and split. Like a broken watch in need of fixing, manfully carrying on, trying to be the same as before, no longer able to keep up, like the uneven ticking of a clock out of time.

He'd expected to make this journey alone, but was silently glad for the support that Andy was offering him. He hadn't liked to ask anything of the man, he'd done too much for him already. But Andy was a stubborn old mule if nothing else, perhaps his gruff demeanour would help to inject a sense of realism into proceedings, knowing that if he made the journey alone, that he would soon become bogged down in his misery once more.

Andy would brook no insolence or pitiful behaviour from him. He would pull him up and command him to get himself together and carry on when he felt things getting too tough, never letting him waver from the course that he had set for himself.

His sense of pride dictated that he must make the journey alone and not ask for the help of others. _Pride cometh before a fall, old man, _he told himself as he shook his head ruefully. He would not spurn the chance to have a companion along for the ride, perhaps it would serve to bring the two men closer together, to heal some of the rifts that had been widened through the unstoppable passages of time.

With his hope and faith he could now add Andy's strength and unwavering support. Little by little, he was gathering the tools that he would need in his arsenal to complete the mission that he had set for himself. One by one, he would go in search of the things that made him the man he used to be, rebuilding from the bottom up, returning to the man he was, the man that he knew that he could still be.


	3. Chapter 3

Already on her third cup of coffee, Calleigh Duquesne was still very much feeling the effects of the night before. It had been a long day for all involved, but even she couldn't have seen what was coming when she walked through her front door late that evening. Horatio had been sat on the stairs waiting for her, his bags packed, his eyes unwilling to meet hers. It was then that she realised why he would not look at her.

He was leaving, not just leaving for New York, but leaving her. After all that they had been through together, after all the times that she had stuck by him when lesser people would have cast him away, he had left her. The holdall at the bottom of the stairs contained all of the belongings that had once found a home in her house. It was as if he was attempting to remove every last reminder of his time there, making it seem as if their relationship had never existed at all.

He had given her his reasons why, the reasons why he had to leave her. Yet still she could not fathom the rationale in his thinking. Whichever way she turned it, she could not understand why he had chosen to leave the one person who had never left his side. He'd spouted the old chestnut of 'It's not you, it's me', but even that sounded hollow to her ears. He'd told her that he needed time and space, that he couldn't be the same until he'd discovered himself again. He told her that he had to do it alone.

He'd kissed her as if his life had depended on it, before closing the door and leaving her behind to her sorrow. She had begged him to stay, but he'd refused, he'd picked his bag up and left her without as much as another look back.

Things had become somewhat blurred after that, she remembered little more than collapsing against the nearest wall and wailing like an injured child. At some point she must have made it to the couch, for that was where she found herself the next morning, her swollen eyes opening slowly as the first rays of light filtered through the still-open curtains of the lounge. She'd wrapped herself in the throw that her mother had given her, the one that Horatio himself had slept in just a few weeks ago. She'd held it to her mouth and inhaled the faint scent of him that was still there, soaked into the woollen fabric, trying her best to breathe in every last ounce of the man who had stolen her heart. The man who had left her.

Apart from a cup of strong black coffee, she had forgone breakfast in favour of getting to the Lab early this morning. Getting in before the rest of the team meant that she would be able to avoid their questioning stares, they would realise before long that Horatio was not present, then they'd want to know the reasons why. Her eyes were still swollen from crying much of the night away, even a thick layer of eye-shadow and mascara could not hide the fact that she'd had little more than a few hours of sleep. There would be no way that she could call the team together and explain Horatio's absence to them in her current state, and so she took the coward's way out by typing a memo and sending it to her colleagues, only giving them the briefest of information, but enough to satisfy their curiosity.

She'd been expecting one of the team to come by to question her further and was not surprised when she heard a persistent knocking at her door barely an hour into the shift. She steeled herself and put on the most professional face she could muster before beckoning her visitor to enter. Her face must have registered her shock as the stocky and rotund figure of Andy Sipowicz stood in her doorway, hands shoved into his beige pants as he gave her a wry smile. "I'm not who you were expecting, huh?"

She took a few moments to regain her composure before answering. "Not really, no."

Well, at least she hadn't shouted at him to get out. Yet. He took it as a positive sign that their brief conversation had not yet disintegrated into an argument. "You mind if I come in for a minute?"

She made an effort to plaster a polite smile on her face, still wary of the prickly man that claimed to be Horatio's friend, yet who had deserted him at the first sign of trouble, all those years ago back in New York. "Sure, why not." She motioned to the chair, he sat down on the other side of the desk and looked at her expectantly. "Was there something I could help you with?"

She was tired and upset, the last thing she wanted was another slanging match with the gruff New Yorker. He'd detected the small hint of sarcasm in her tone, but decided to let it drop for now, he could clearly see that something was bothering her, but he felt it wasn't his place to pry. "I came to see John, is he around?"

He couldn't fail to notice the way that she flinched at the mention of his old partner's name. The pieces slowly slotted into place as he connected her surprising reaction with the tired look on her face. Panic began to set in, had something happened to John?

"He's ok, isn't he?" he asked, the concern evident in his voice as he leaned forward in the chair.

She could feel the tears rising within her again and threatening to fall. She couldn't fall apart, not now, and certainly not in front of this man. She could not show him any kind of weakness, knowing that the wily former detective would pounce upon it and use it to get the upper hand in their thorny relationship. She kept her head lowered as she spoke quietly. "He's gone."

None of this was making any sense to him, where had John gone? Surely she didn't mean gone as in permanently? He dismissed the idea quickly, if John had died he would have known about it. The guy was big news in Miami, a local hero, if something had happened to him it would have been plastered over every news channel in the state. "Calleigh, I'm not sure I follow."

It was too late, the tears were already falling, dripping down her cheeks and smudging the thick layer of makeup that she had applied this morning. She lifted her head to look at him, feeling her anger at everything rising to the surface. "He packed his bags and he left!" she shouted as the pain and bitterness at Horatio's actions finally boiled over past her normally sunny disposition.

Her angry outburst caused him to sit back in shock, momentarily stunned by the despair in her voice. Should he ask her what had happened? Was it his place to even know what had gone on between the pair of them?

He certainly wasn't any good at giving relationship advice, and so he chose to avoid asking much else about it. "I came here to give him his phone back." As far as subject-changers went, it was a pretty poor one, but anything was better than listening to someone wail about their complicated love life, he had no doubt that he would hear a similar version of events from John when he finally caught up with him.

The random statement from Andy served to shake her from her reverie as she looked at him perplexed. He pulled the small cell phone from his pocket and waved it in front of him. "I picked it up from his house when I saw him the other night. He was in a pretty bad way, you know."

She had a good idea of which night he was referring to. A small part of her was glad that Andy had been there with him at the time. She'd certainly seen the devastating effect that Laura had on him when he'd finally returned to the house. Perhaps she hadn't given Andy the credit that he was due when it came to Horatio. As much as she and Andy didn't get on, the man had the enviable ability to know when he was needed and to offer his silent friendship and support to his troubled friend.

"Thank you," she said, her voice low. "Thank you for being there for him."

He suddenly felt awkward, seeing the sincerity in her eyes as she looked at him. He shuffled nervously in his seat. "What are friends for?" he quipped, trying to find a way out of the emotional minefield that they were potentially about to wade into. She continued to look at him with those big green eyes of hers. "The guy in the shop told me it was a smart phone," he began, trying to bring the topic of conversation back towards something more comfortable. "Hell, I remember the days when all you did with one of these was make a call. Now you can check your email, take photos. Next they'll be telling us that they've made one that'll wipe our asses for us too."

He looked up and realised that he'd been rambling, he quickly shut his open mouth and felt his cheeks redden with embarrassment at his course language. He looked at the phone in his hand, "I got them to block Laura's number so she can't get at him again," he mumbled as he put it back in his pocket.

He felt her eyes boring into him again, suddenly her face crumbled as the tears came forth with a vengeance. He watched as she held her head in her hands and sobbed quietly. At a loss for what else to do, he pulled the handkerchief from his pocket as he stood and made his way over to her. He placed a stiff hand on her back and held the white cotton square of fabric in front of her face. She nodded gratefully at him as she took it, thankful that he had the sensitivity to walk to the far end of the room and turn his back while she attempted to regain her composure. The two of them would never be the best of friends, but she was slowly realising that perhaps Andy wasn't the complete bastard that she had initially made him out to be.

Slowly her sobs subsided, he regarded her with genuine concern, her tears turned into small hiccupping breaths as she wiped at the mascara that had run down her face. "Thank you," she said, although it wasn't clear exactly what she was thanking him for. He nodded his head silently as he sat back down in the chair.

He hated to ask, but he knew he had to. "Have you got any idea where John might be?" He winced, preparing for another flood of tears from the blonde woman.

She shook her hair out of her face and straightened herself up. "He's been asked to return to New York to meet with the Chief of Police there. His flight's booked for this afternoon, my best guess is that he went back to his own house last night." She willed herself to remain calm and not to descend into another fit of histrionics as she had just moments earlier.

He wasn't surprised that the NYPD had thrown their weight around, he'd kicked up a big enough stink when he'd gone back for John's badge and to clear his name, it was inevitable that One Police Plaza would want their pound of flesh from the man. He might have got John into this mess, but he sure as hell wasn't going to let him face his demons alone. Not this time. "He'll be ok," he told her as he tried to give her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "I'm gonna go with him."

She gave him a pained look. "He's not going to like that."

"Too bad, he doesn't get a choice. I'm gonna go with him and that's the end of it."

As she looked at his pudgy and aged face, she couldn't deny that Andy believed every word that he was saying. Maybe she really hadn't given the old man the credit that he deserved when it came to his concern for Horatio. He might have been a poor friend back in New York, but since Horatio's rescue he had been a constant in the lieutenant's life, often getting through to the stubborn man when nobody else could.

Although she hated to admit it, she had underestimated the man before her. She had been worried about Horatio's state of mind as he left her house last night, fearing that perhaps he'd lost all sense completely. Yet the more she thought about it, the more she could see logic in his thinking. She'd been loathe to let him go to New York by himself and had wanted to go with him, but he'd shut her out again. At least he would not be alone on what would almost certainly prove to be a difficult trip.

Perhaps returning to the city that he had left under such a cloud would enable him to seek the salvation that he was looking for. After retracing his past, would he find himself again? Would he feel emotionally stable enough to return to her?

His leaving had given her no choice, she could do nothing but stand back and let him do what he thought was necessary, having faith in him that he would do what was needed in order to return to her. But what if he decided that starting a relationship with her had been a mistake? What would she do if he returned and told her that there was no longer a place for her in his life?

"I'll look out for him. I promise I'll take of him, ok?"

Andy's gravelly voice plucked her from her thoughts, she gave him a small smile. "I know you will," she said, and she meant it. "Bring him back safe."

He nodded his head as he pulled himself up from the chair. "I will." He made his way over to the door, stopping before he reached for the handle. "Calleigh?"

"Yes?"

"That man loves you, don't ever doubt that. Just give him time, he'll find his way back."

She gave him a tight nod of the head as he turned away, opened the door and made his way down the corridor and out of sight.

She commanded herself to remain professional as she sat at the desk, reports and requests were piling up in her inbox, demanding her immediate attention. Each time that she had tried to concentrate on the job at hand, she had found her thoughts drifting back to Horatio, wondering where he was, what he was doing. Was he ok? Should he really be alone at a time when he was still so emotionally vulnerable?

It calmed her racing mind a little to know that Horatio would not be alone during what would be a tough time ahead. A small part of her felt jealous of Andy and the fact that he would be the one standing by Horatio's side and not her, not being privy to his thoughts and feelings anymore in a way that she had gotten so used to.

The best course of action she could take would be to clear her mind of thoughts of him and concentrate on running the Lab to the best of her abilities, ensuring that Horatio at least had a department to come back to. That was easier said than done though, when someone had consumed your every waking thought for so long, it was so hard stop yourself from continuing to do so.

It wasn't as if her love for him were some kind of switch that she could turn on and off when she felt like it, love didn't work like that. When you loved someone, they were never far from your thoughts, often being the first and last thing you thought about during the day. Just because a person was out of sight, it did not mean that you suddenly stopped caring about them. Love was a constant, something that you felt in every fibre of your being. To love someone was a powerful thing, it was something that crept up on you slowly and consumed you completely, before you had even realised what was happening to you. Once love had you in its clutches, it would rarely let you go.

And that was what made it so difficult. She knew that she loved him, body and soul, even as complicated and damaged as he was. She loved every single part of him, good and bad. She'd fallen in love with men before, but somehow this time was different, somehow this time she had found her heart stolen away completely, her only hope was that Horatio would not return it to her broken and beaten out of all proportion.

He'd promised to return to her, a better and stronger man, that he needed time in order to put his life back together. But what if that never happened? Would she wait for him forever?

The truth was that she'd come too far now, she'd invested too much in this relationship to let it fall by the wayside. It wasn't as if Horatio had left her for another woman or because he didn't love her, he'd left because he couldn't find it within himself to forgive and love the one person who needed it more than anyone. Horatio had always been a stalwart and true man, she'd never once had reason to doubt him or his word, now it was more important than ever that she kept the faith with him and honoured the choice that he had made.

But it was oh so tempting to want to run after him, to track him down and force herself back into his life. But that would make her no better than his ex-wife, the woman who had harried him to the point where he had almost crumbled completely. The urge to take him in her arms and protect him from the world was so strong that it almost physically hurt to not be able to do so. But she knew that if she loved him, if she truly loved him, that she would let him go, she would let him go it alone and find his own way.

And that was what she had to do, the best thing she could do for him now was to stand by his decision and have the faith in him that he would return to her side eventually.

As much as she hated it, all she could do now was sit back and wait.


	4. Chapter 4

Andy stood watching his old partner as he paced around the living room restlessly. Their sojourn at the coffee shop had been brief to say the least, he'd given up trying to make conversation with the stubborn man after getting only one or two word answers in reply.

The brooding intensity of the man that he thought that he knew so well was a hard thing to get used to. John used to be so carefree and emotional, the John that he knew now was far quieter and much more reserved, not prone to excitable outbursts as he had been in his younger days. He was slowly learning that, at times like this, that it was best just to shut up and say nothing. John would talk in his own time, when he was good and ready, and not a moment before.

It probably would have fallen on deaf ears to say it, but the way John paced the room was so much like the energetic young man that he remembered, the need to constantly move or fidget had not been something that had been lessened by time or the heartache that he'd suffered. It warmed Andy's heart to think, that despite all of the differences in his friend, some things had never changed.

John's reserved nature was also something that seemed at odds with the person that he once knew. Perhaps that was the point, John had changed since his time in New York, it would be foolish to think otherwise. It was with a sense of shame that he thought back to those early days back home, when he would shout or snap at his young partner as John yapped his trap incessantly about this or that. Now he felt himself longing for the John who was once so open and chatty, missing that endearing naivety and innocence about him.

If there was one thing that he'd learned about his friend recently it was that, for all intents and purposes, he would only let those around him see what he wanted them to. John had become guarded and secretive, only letting certain people even moderately close to the real him, protecting his vulnerabilities and weaknesses from those who thought him invincible. As his physical strength returned, so did his ability to put on a front to the watchful eyes of the world around him.

But he'd seen the man at his weakest and at his worst, perhaps it said something about John's feelings towards him that he had let him come so close to seeing the real person behind the image that he'd constructed for himself. The figure of Horatio Caine was no more than a smokescreen, behind it lay the truth, guarded fiercely behind the sunglasses and sharp suits. Horatio Caine was the boogieman that criminals whispered tales of to their children, a man so fierce and unwavering in his thirst for justice that he struck fear into the hearts of the most hardened of felon's.

But the man behind the image was just that, a man. As vulnerable as the rest of humanity, whether he chose to believe it himself or not. It was John's infuriating inability to accept his own human frailties that drove him to want to throttle him at times. John had placed such an unattainable level of expectation upon himself that he would always find himself failing and left wanting. It was as if he refused to accept that he was loved and cared for, even if he found himself faltering, expecting people to cast him aside as if he were no longer good enough for them.

What had happened to the slightly cocky and carefree young kid that he used to know? Was he still there, hidden under all of the pain and misery that had followed this good man throughout his life?

If he were to be granted one wish, it would be that John would finally find what it was that he seemed to be looking for. Perhaps his wish had already been granted, he'd seen a smile on his face for the first time in so very long. It seemed as if the man that he had come to care for as his own family had finally taken a step in the right direction and had decided that he did want to carry on fighting the good fight. It gave him hope that perhaps the real man, the man who had been hidden under a façade for so long, would emerge victorious from the carnage that his life had become.

And as much as he loved and admired the stoic man in front of him, his persistent trudging back and forth was beginning to make him feel a little dizzy. "John, we've got another hour before the cab picks us up. Are you gonna spend the whole time wearing a hole in the carpet?" he asked as he leaned on the doorway to the lounge, satisfied that he had at least got him to cease his movements for a moment.

The pacing figure let out a sigh as he shoved is hands in his pockets. "I need something to do."

"Nervous, huh?"

Andy was rewarded for his careless remark with a withering stare. "I'll…uh…..I'll go and make us some coffee," he stuttered as he felt those laser-like blue eyes of his old partner narrow in on him.

Eventually, John's face softened, the momentary flash of anger dissipating as quickly as it had appeared. "Coffee would be good," he said quietly as he resumed his pacing.

As he busied himself in the kitchen, he could have sworn that he'd heard a soft knocking at the door. Pausing for a moment, he heard it again. Hearing no sound from the lounge, he made his way to the front door and opened it, stunned as to who was standing on the other side.

He blinked twice, just to make sure that his eyes were not deceiving him. Standing on the threshold was a young man with blonde hair, as tall as his father and with those striking blue eyes that he'd inherited from him too. The boy stood before him, looking tired and worried, an Army-issue backpack slung over his right shoulder.

"Kyle?"

The boy gave him a slightly nervous smile, "Mr Sip…" Kyle stopped himself, trying to break the habit he'd got into of calling the old man by his surname. "Andy. Is my dad here?"

It seemed as if his opening the door had alerted John to the fact that someone else was now present, as he walked into the hallway looking just as shocked as he must have been himself only a few moments earlier. "Kyle?"

Andy stepped aside as Kyle set foot in the house, eyes zeroing in on the sight of his father. The boy dropped his bag carelessly to the floor and wrapped his arms around the older man, holding him tightly. "I missed you, Dad." He couldn't fail to hear the way Kyle's breath hitched as he rested his chin on the other man's shoulder.

"I missed you too, son."

Kyle pulled back slightly and regarded the familiar figure in front of him. "I went to find you at the Lab, Calleigh said you'd left. You ok, Dad?" The young man looked at his father with genuine concern.

"I'm fine, son. I just have to go back to New York for a little while is all."

Andy decided that perhaps now would be the best time to make himself scarce and carry on making the coffee, all the while keeping a trained ear on the conversation in the hallway.

Kyle frowned as his father looked at him with some puzzlement. "Not that I'm not glad to see you, but what are you doing here? I thought you were stationed at Camp Blanding for the foreseeable future?"

The boy followed his father into the living room, taking the invitation to sit down on the couch as his father regarded him warily. He'd hoped that his homecoming would be a wonderful surprise for him, but one look at the sorry state that Calleigh was in had told him that things were far from alright with his dad.

"I called Calleigh's house the other day, she didn't tell you?"

Horatio shook his head, his countenance darkening as he once more felt ashamed for the way he'd fallen apart after confessing his sins to her.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Kyle said, the disappointment evident in his tone as he picked at the stitching on his t-shirt. "I was gonna tell you and Calleigh the good news together."

Horatio's looked at his son again. "What news is that?"

Kyle took a deep breath before he began, remembering how disastrous his last attempt at talking to his father about his career in the Army had been. "Remember I told you that I wanted to join the Military Police?" He wasn't sure if his father would remember, he'd still been physically recovering from what had been done to him at that time.

Horatio nodded his head, never taking his eyes from Kyle. "Yes, I do."

"I got in, Dad," he said quietly, afraid of the reaction he might get.

He quickly found himself pulled to his feet and wrapped in another firm embrace, a hand finding its way to the back of his head as he felt himself being pushed further into his father's body.

"Kyle, I'm so proud of you."

He could hear his father's voice breaking as he spoke and felt a lump rise in his own throat. How could it be that someone that he'd hardly known for most of his life could become the centre of his whole world in just a few short years?

There had been rough times in their relationship, certainly in the early days at least. But time had served to bring the two of them closer together as he realised that his father would do anything for him. There were times when he still couldn't quite believe that the great Lieutenant Horatio Caine was actually his dad, it still felt like some sort of dream to him, that he would suddenly wake up one day and realise that the past few years had been nothing but a fantasy, no more than a figment of his imagination.

But the person in front of him was real. Worn and scarred perhaps, but definitely real. It had taken those monsters abducting and torturing his father to truly realise just how much he loved him. Those harrowing few days when he'd been missing had been the worst of his life, the weeks that followed as his father battled to survive what had been done to him had not been much better either.

He'd felt such a heel that day, when he told his ailing father that he'd been ordered back to his unit. He'd seen the look of utter desperation and sadness on his face and knew that he was solely responsible for it being there. He would never forget the way the older man's face had paled as he told him that his leave would soon be over. Even worse was to come when the day finally arrived for him to pack his bags and leave.

Oh how he would have loved to have stayed, to help his old man get back on his feet, but he couldn't. He'd sworn an oath to his country that he would serve in the military, and as much as he wanted to, he could not go back on his word. His father had taught him that, when a man gave his word, he had to do everything in his power to keep it.

As his cab pulled away from Calleigh's house and began the slow journey to the airport, he allowed a few stray tears to fall from his eyes, hoping that his father would be okay without him. He tried to convince himself that being able to talk to him every day on the phone would be just as good as being there in person, but it was nothing more than a lie, just something that he told himself in an effort to ease his own guilty conscience.

As much as he wanted to stay in the warm embrace, he was starting to feel the cramp from the long car journey kick in. He disengaged himself gently and took another good look at the man in front of him, wanting to know what had happened to make him leave Calleigh's home. They'd been good together, or so he had thought, they had seemed rock solid the last time that he'd spoken to either of them.

"What happened with you and Calleigh?" he asked as he sat back down on the sofa. He could tell by the way that the other man was avoiding his gaze that he felt uncomfortable with the topic of discussion. When no answer was forthcoming, he tried again. "She's pretty upset. Did you two have an argument or something?" He saw the pain flash across his father's face at the question.

"It's…uh….it's complicated." Horatio knew his answer was lame in the least, but he really didn't feel like trying to explain himself again, it was hardly as if he quite understood it himself.

"But you love her, right?"

Horatio pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "That's not the point, son. I'm not what she needs right now…..I'm not the man she deserves. Besides, I have to go back to New York for a little while," he finished quietly as he ran a hand over his haggard face.

"I know, she told me," Kyle replied, equally as quiet. "Well, my timing sure sucks, doesn't it?"

Horatio couldn't help the small laugh that escaped from his lips at his son's comment. "If I could stay here, son, believe me, I would." The regret that he would not be able to spend time with Kyle was evident in his tone as he spoke. "They're giving me no choice, I have to go."

Suddenly the idea came to him, it seemed like the solution to everything. Kyle looked at his father, his face buoyant as he spoke. "I'll come with you," he said excitedly.

"Kyle, no…."

"Why not? I don't have to be at my new posting for another two weeks. After that….I don't know when we'll get another opportunity to spend time together."

"Kyle, I don't think it's a good idea."

His father had once more fallen into that self-sacrificing mode of his, well he was damned if he was going to let him get away with it this time. He felt a momentary twinge of guilt for doing it, but he was going to play his trump card, no matter what. "Dad, I came back for you…..to spend time with you….Don't turn me away…..please."

One look at the young man and he knew that he couldn't resist, that he would do anything for his son, that he could deny him nothing. He let out a defeated sigh as he nodded his head, "Our flight is in a few hours, I'm not sure you'll be able to get a seat."

"Let me worry about that," Kyle replied, a huge grin on his face.

The two of them looked to the far end of the room when they heard Andy clearing his throat. "Is it safe to come in yet?" he asked awkwardly as he held a tray of mugs in front of him. He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly as John gave him another of his patented stares, he'd received so many of them in the last few months that he was quickly become immune to their ferocity and power.

"I'm coming to New York with you," Kyle told him proudly as the young man picked one of the mugs up and took a sip from it, a look of pure bliss crossing his face as the sharp liquid hit the back of his throat. "You got the good stuff in again?" he asked his father.

"I did." Horatio couldn't help the small smile that crossed his face as he regarded his son. Perhaps it was one of the few things that his boy had inherited from him, even though they'd spent most of his young life separated, it seemed as if Kyle shared that same liking for quality coffee that he had. To him, coffee was like a fine wine, he could tell cheap freeze-dried varieties from the more expensive brands that he often bought for himself. He'd drunk enough coffee in his life to appreciate a good cup of it, his sense of taste immediately discerning whether or not a particular brand was palatable to him.

He fondly remembered the time when his son had visited him in hospital, he'd hardly been in the most sociable of moods that day, yet Kyle would not take his dour mood lying down. He single-handedly, and wordlessly, helped his father from the bed and into a waiting wheelchair, intent on finding the pair of them some proper coffee and not just the slop that came from the many vending machines in the hospital corridors.

His son had seemed to instinctively know that he had needed a change of scenery as much as he needed the taste of proper coffee. It had felt so good to be out of the stark whiteness of his hospital room and back amongst the land of the living. Alexx had provided him with a private room so that he could maintain a little dignity and pride, but he often found himself getting lonely and depressed, stuck in a room by himself with only the occasional visits from the hospital staff to break the monotony of lying in bed, not being able to move. His colleagues and loved ones had visited him on a regular basis, but he found himself getting irritated by the fact that they could come and go as they pleased while he couldn't. Hearing the hustle and bustle in the corridor made him pine for the freedom that he had once taken for granted, and it only served to fuel the bitterness and his anger at himself and his situation all the more.

The conversation about coffee died out soon after and left the three of them sitting in companionable silence, all casting furtive glances at the clock or their watches. The sound of a car pulling up on the drive outside caught Horatio's attention, walking warily to the blinds, he took a peek and was relieved to find a taxi cab waiting outside.

He took a deep breath to steel himself, nodding at the other two men before he made his way into the hallway, picking the holdall that he took with him from Calleigh's last night in his right hand. Kyle and Andy soon followed suit, standing wordlessly behind as they waited for him to open the front door and step outside.

It was then that he felt the first few small pangs of fear begin to take hold of him, feeling that almost painful sensation grip at his innards. _Calm down, you old fool,_ he told himself as he straightened his posture and reached for the door handle. Why was he getting so nervous? It was only a simple trip back to New York, wasn't it?

He was kidding himself if he thought the next few days would be simple, they would be anything but. Hiding behind his front door was not going to solve the problem either, he knew what was coming. He took a deep breath, praying that his resolve would hold, as he opened the door and found the bright rays of the sun beaming down on him once more, taking a step away from the relative safety of his house and into the great unknown.


	5. Chapter 5

Truth be told, she was grateful for the peace and quiet of the last hour or so. It had certainly been a busy start to the shift, with the visit from Andy and then Kyle. It had been the visit from the young man that had took her by surprise the most. She had most definitely not been expecting him to visit the Lab any time soon, as far as she was aware, he was meant to be at Camp Blanding, on the other side of Florida.

Her mind then cast back to the call she'd taken from Kyle a few days previously. She remembered that the young man had been eager to speak to his father, being coy when he told her that he had a surprise for him. But she'd been so wrapped up in the issues between herself and Horatio that she had forgotten to mention to her lover that his son had called.

When Horatio had confessed his sins to her, any thoughts of mentioning his precious son's name flew out the window as she saw the look of utter devastation on his face after his own shocking admissions. She hadn't intended to keep it from him, it was just that she found herself so worried about Horatio that any thoughts of Kyle had genuinely slipped her mind. Until he'd arrived at the Lab, that was.

He'd stood in the doorway of the office, smiling at her hopefully as he cast a glance around the room, expecting to see his father. His face soon fell when he saw her gaze drop to the desk as she sat staring at the papers on it, not willing to look the young man in the eyes.

"Calleigh, where's my father?" Kyle asked as he tried, and failed, to keep the fear from his voice. "He's ok, isn't he?" he asked again, this time much more insistently.

She risked a quick glance up at him and new instantly that it was a mistake. Those sharp blue eyes that he'd inherited from his father pinned her to the spot, reminding her so much of the man that had packed his bags and left her, less than twenty-four hours ago.

He suddenly began to fear the worst. He knew that his father's job was often dangerous and that there was always a risk that he could get hurt. But they'd only just finished putting him back together after what those Malucci monsters had done to him. He'd been through so much already, it simply wasn't fair for him to be hurt again. But what if it was worse than that? What if he was dead?

No, Calleigh would have told him before now if something had happened. She wouldn't dare to keep something so important from him. Not after what they'd all been through together. The three of them, they were a team, they stuck together, they faced everything together.

Then why was Calleigh refusing to look at him? What was it that she was hiding?

"Calleigh, please. Just tell me what's going on. I know there's something wrong, why won't you tell me where my father is?" He could feel his voice rise in anger as he spoke. He couldn't help it though, fear and panic were beginning to sweep quickly through his body, he could feel their cold tendrils seeping into every pore of him, gripping him painfully.

Still she couldn't bear to look at him. How could life be so cruel to her? It was bad enough that the man that she loved had upped and left her, and now here she was, being forced to relive the moment again twice in one day. Each time made it seem worse than the the last, and silently she wondered when it would ever end.

She took a deep breath and finally mustered up the courage to look at Kyle. "Take a seat," she began as she pointed to the office chair in front of the desk.

"I'd rather stand," Kyle replied in a rather surly tone. His concern for his father was beginning to spill over into anger and impetuousness as he folded his arms over his chest, raising his chin in a show of defiance. "Just tell me, Calleigh," he pleaded as his expression softened to that of a needy child rather than an experienced Army veteran.

"There was an incident yesterday," she began as she willed her voice not to break. "Your father was involved in a hostage situation and an officer-involved shooting." She watched as the colour drained from his face, he shakily made his way over to the proffered chair and sat down heavily, giving the impression that his legs would not have been able to support his weight for much longer anyway. "He's fine, Kyle. He wasn't injured, he dealt with the situation perfectly…..but it's Department policy that there's an investigation into these types of incidents. Your father had some pretty shocking news when he met with the Chief yesterday."

Calleigh paused momentarily to allow the information to sink in. She watched the numerous emotions flicker across the young man's face as she spoke. He was looking at her expectantly, with a puzzled expression as he waited for her to continue. "You father has been asked to return to New York, the NYPD have requested that he answer some questions that they have about his time undercover."

"Why can't they just leave him alone?" Kyle growled in anger. "Hasn't he been through enough without them raking him across the coals again?"

She had to smile at the righteous anger that Kyle was displaying, the young man had become fiercely protective of his father over the last few months. It was gratifying to see the relationship that the two men had, and how Kyle had switched so seamlessly from role of petulant child to caregiver and protector when Horatio needed it. Kyle was growing into a fine young man, a man so like his father.

Her thoughts darkened at the thought of Horatio and how he had left her last night, pleading his case that he needed time and distance to work through his emotional baggage. A part of her knew that he had made the right decision, yet her heart yearned to be the one to make the journey with him. He wouldn't allow her to though, it was as if he had no longer had a use for her and had left without so much as a thank you.

No, that wasn't fair, she had seen the emotional toll that it had taken on him to pack his bags and leave, she knew that he had not come to the decision lightly, it would be unfair of her to place more blame on him than he already felt. But the selfish and needy part of her felt angered that he did not trust her, or himself, to stay with her throughout what would likely be a highly emotionally-charged and difficult time for him.

"When does he have to go?"

Kyle's quiet voice brought her back to the present with a bump as she raised her eyes to his and gave him a sad smile. "His flight's this afternoon," she replied, unable to finish her sentence before she was cut off by the eager young man.

"I'll head over to your house and see him, if that's ok?" He barely waited for an answer as he picked up his bag and made his way over to the door, intent on catching up with his father before he left.

"Kyle, wait." He turned slowly and looked at her, once more not liking that sad look on her face. "He's not there….he left," she added after a long pause.

"What do you mean, he left?"

She closed her eyes briefly and pushed back the memory of Horatio kissing her goodbye, pushing it back into a deep and dark recess of her mind, never to be thought of again. "He left me…..last night."

"But I don't understand. I thought you guys were for keeps?"

She wanted to smile at Kyle's youthful naivety, it was clear that the boy had never fallen deeply in love with anyone, that he hadn't yet had his heart broken for the first time. Matters of the heart were always complicated and rarely, if ever, made sense. She had no doubt that Horatio loved her as well as he could, but her heart yearned to have him here by her side, just like she had been there for him recently. Her head knew that he had made the right decision in taking some time to distance himself, yet her heart felt the injustice of his leaving keenly.

What was that old saying? If you love someone, let them go.

That was easier said than done, though. Letting someone go when you'd fallen, deeply, madly and incomprehensibly in love with them was one of the hardest things that she could ever imagine having to do. She'd fallen head over heels in love with an emotionally damaged man, loving him despite his faults and his inability to show his true feelings at times. Her love for him was all-consuming, he would be the first thing she thought of when she woke and the last thing at night. Even her dreams had been consumed with visions of him for months now.

Her first thought had always been for Horatio, for his needs, his well-being, his safety. She had placed Horatio before herself, before her teammates and before the Lab. Was it only now that he was gone that she realised how obsessive her need for him was?

Perhaps she needed the time and distance just as much as he did. Maybe a break from Horatio would allow her to gain perspective on who she was and the person that she had become. For so many months, she had been forced into the role of caregiver, her thoughts rightly centred on the emotionally and physically damaged man that she had sworn to protect and nurse back to health. But when had that role turned from being a necessity to a way of life?

She'd found herself falling into the maternal role that she had played for her parents as a child, something that had always come so easily to her. She had not been blessed with children, something that she had yearned for years, did she see the temporarily weak and needy Horatio as the perfect substitute for a child in her life?

The comparisons, when she thought about it, were astonishing. Horatio had been so physically vulnerable in his first few weeks of recovery that he needed help with even the most basic of tasks. She had found herself growing accustomed to meeting those needs for him and ignoring his rather childish temper tantrums at his own lack of independence. There were times when the mask of strength would fall and he would weep like a scared and frightened child, she would take him in her arms and comfort him in that maternal way that spoke so deeply to her. Had she unconsciously sought to keep him in that role, taking away his choices and his freedom and making him dependent on her?

It hadn't taken long for them to fall into that pattern, he had needed the support and she had readily offered it to him, to the point that they had recently physically consummated their relationship. He was emotionally dependent on her, but then again, the same could be said for her. She had become so attached to him that she felt lost without him by her side. She, too, needed Horatio's strength and love to sustain her, and he had given that to her in his own special way, whether he realised it or not.

Despite his difficulties, there was something about Horatio that had never been bent or broken by what had been done to him. She had fallen for him because he was a kind and decent man, honourable and true. Those were things that had never changed about him, even if they were buried under the heavy burden of pain and misery, his inherent goodness would always shine through.

She had found herself drawn to him because of it, long before the Malucci's had ever stepped foot in Miami. She had been growing steadily closer to him since his shooting, as he finally began to deal with the loss of Marisol and grieve for her passing. There were times back then when Horatio had seemed so very lonely and she ached to take that pain away from him. He had been reluctant of her advances at first, but she had worn him down, much in the way that he had to her, when he convinced her to come and work for him all those years ago. Things had been moving steadily, if rather slowly, for her liking. She would have loved to have jumped head-first into a relationship but understood Horatio's need for restraint, his heart had taken a fearful blow when Marisol had died and he had been reluctant to ever risk it again.

But then things had happened, they had happened so quickly, and had spun so wildly out of control, that neither of them had been given a chance to understand just what it meant for them to be in a relationship with each other. Due to the emotionally charged atmosphere, they had found themselves drawn to one another and into a relationship that had become so difficult and hard to define. Theirs had not been a traditional relationship from the start, the playing field had not been level, certainly as far as Horatio was concerned anyway. She'd had an advantage over him from the beginning, had he come to resent her for that?

She hoped not, but there was also a small part of her that had tired of always being the one in control, even though she gripped onto the notion so tightly at times. Perhaps a little space would allow both of them to come back together as equals instead of opposites. But would it change the way he felt about her? Or her him?

That was an impossible question to answer, but she knew that she would have to accept the finality of the situation when it finally arose. He would either come back to her or he wouldn't, there would be no way she could influence the process even if she tried. The best she could do was stand back and give him the space that he had decided that he needed, hoping that when he returned, that things would be different.

She realised that she had left Kyle hanging as she lost herself in her thoughts. "I don't really understand it either," she replied with a sad smile. "But your father has asked for some space…..he feels that the best place for him is in his own house at the moment."

"And you're just going to let him?" the young man responded incredulously.

"I don't have a choice, Kyle. Your father has the right to make his own decisions…..it's not my place to stand in his way. I don't have to like it…but I have to respect his choice."

Kyle huffed his displeasure at her answer, she allowed a small smile to cross her face as she watched the determination in his poise as he told her of his plans to track his father down and talk some sense into him. She didn't envy the task ahead of the boy, Horatio was as stubborn as a mule and would not take kindly to his son trying to change his mind for him.

Once he had left, it had finally left her with her thoughts once more. She willed herself not to think of Horatio, it would do neither of them any good to know that she was constantly fretting about him. Work would be the best tonic for her, she would adopt the same thinking as that of her absent lover, she would lose herself in the case and not give a second thought to anything else. Andy would be with him, and she didn't have to like the burly old man to know that he would willingly give his own life to protect Horatio. He would not be alone on his journey, she had faith that Andy would give him the support that he needed when she couldn't.

There had been days recently when she had prayed for a little divine intervention, for the crime rate in Miami to drop just a little, so that she and the team could find a little room to breathe. No intervention had been coming…..until now.

Now she was forced to face the fact that today had been the slowest day, crime-wise, for Miami in as many months as she could remember. Now that she wanted a case to sink her teeth into there were none forthcoming, and it frustrated her immensely. Signing off reports and request forms had become tedious long ago, it had always been the part of the job she detested the most since she had assumed temporary command of the Lab. The level of administrative work that went into running the facility was nothing short of astounding, how had Horatio ever managed to keep on top of it all and still find so much time to spend in the field?

It would be a question that would have to be answered at another time though, she hoped that her prayers had finally been answered as she saw the tall, handsome figure of Eric Delko standing outside the office, his hand reaching to knock on the door. She beat him to it, as she commanded him to enter.

"Hey, Cal. How's it going?" he asked gently as he sat across the desk from her. He'd heard a few rumours spreading around the Lab about Horatio and his sudden disappearance, Calleigh's rather terse and succinct memo to the rest of the team had only served to arouse his suspicions further. Something had happened between the two of them, that much was obvious. He hated to think that the two people that he cared most about were not seeing eye to eye for whatever reason, he loved both of them deeply and didn't want to see either of them get hurt.

But it had been inevitable, hadn't it? Work romances were always doomed to fail, he knew as much from his experience with Calleigh himself. They had both been ready and willing, yet spending so much time together professionally, and personally, had created a divide between them. Neither of them wanted to lose the foundation of their friendship, so they called time on their passionate affair and put it down to the fact that things would just not work for them. Was the same true now for Calleigh and Horatio?

"When does H's flight leave?" he asked as he studied the look on her face intently, looking for any sign as to what might be happening between her and his brother in law.

"This afternoon. Andy's going with him," she added as an afterthought.

"Good. What about you?"

"What about me?" she answered sweetly as she tried to give the impression that everything was hunky-dory and ship-shape in her world.

Eric leaned his arms on the desk in an effort to bring his face closer to hers, frowning when she pulled away further from him. "I know you, Cal. Something's not right, has something happened with you and Horatio?"

He pinned her with those big brown eyes of his, the eyes that she loved so much about him, the eyes that always conveyed the love and admiration that he held for her. She could tell him all about her woes, but she had made a promise to both Horatio and the Chief that she would make a firm distinction between her personal and professional lives. Involving Eric in the whole sordid affair would be to bring her intimate issues into a very public environment. It was best all round if she firmly, but politely, told Eric to mind his own business.

"Everything's fine," she lied in that melodic Southern drawl of hers. "What can I do for you, Eric?" she added as she shifted effortlessly back into the role of leader once more.

The feeling of disappointment made his heart sink painfully. He was not so naïve as to think that Calleigh was being truthful when it came to her and Horatio, yet he was wise enough to know not to push her on it for fear of another angry outburst. For all of their personal friendship, Calleigh was still his superior at this point in time, and he owed it to her, and the team, to respect that her word was final.

"We've just had a callout to a suspected arson case in South Beach. I wondered if you wanted to come out with me, see if you haven't lost your touch over the last few months." He looked at her once more with those big brown eyes of his, but the concern had been replaced with gentle teasing instead as he wiggled his eyebrows comically at her.

It had the desired effect, she began to smile in spite of herself at his attempts to raise her spirits. Eric had the infuriating ability to be so emotionally childish at times, yet at others he had the instinctive compassion of the man that he worked so hard to emulate. Was it only now that Horatio was temporarily out of the picture that Eric was beginning to live up to his brother in law's lofty example?

Either way, losing herself in a case might be just what she needed. Mind made up, she rose from the chair and painted on her best game face. "Let's find out then, shall we?"

Her tone was teasing and light as she attempted to force the dark thoughts from her mind and distract herself with something entirely unrelated to her current woes.

Following Eric out of the office, she spied Ryan standing in the hallway, cell phone held to his right ear as he winced visibly. Even from a few feet away, she could hear the raised voice of an unknown female, but couldn't make out the words that she was so violently sending the poor man's way.

"I thought you'd be happy," she heard him say as he tried to placate the livid woman on the other end of the phone. "I did it because I care about you….you deserve to be happy…don't be mad at me, I was just trying to help….wait…..let me explain!"

Poor Ryan had no time to explain further as the mystery caller hung up on him, the fierce sound of the dial tone was audible from where his two colleagues were standing. "Woman trouble?" Eric asked him with a wry grin.

He shot his friend a sour look as he slipped his phone back into his suit jacket pocket. "Yeah, 'cos you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Delko?" Breathing out through his nose in frustration, Ryan turned his back and left, making his way to somewhere, anywhere, so that he could find a few moments to collect himself.

Calleigh pursed her lips, frowning at Eric's silent glee at his colleague's misfortune with the ladies, giving him a pointed look before motioning for him to return his attention to the crime scene that they were about to visit. "C'mon, cowboy. I thought you were meant to be helping me get back in the saddle?"

He stamped down on the sudden lustful flash that shot through his body at her words. Calleigh was spoken for, and the man who held her heart was none other than his brother in law. He wouldn't, no he couldn't, entertain the idea of having anything more than a platonic friendship with her. Clearing his throat, he motioned for her to lead the way, all the while finding his eyes drifting down to her pert derriere.


	6. Chapter 6

The incessant chatter between Kyle and Andy soon became background noise to Horatio as he sat on the right-hand side in the back of the taxi cab, his thoughts drifting, as he watched the world go by through the window. Two fire trucks came screaming down the freeway, no doubt on their way to a call-out, but he paid them no more than a few seconds attention as his thoughts centred solely on what would lay ahead in the next few days.

Once boarded, the flight to the city that had caused him so much heartache would be short. There would be little or no time to get his head around the idea of returning to New York before he would be thrust back there and placed before an expectant board of highly-ranked officers at NYPD headquarters. What did they want with him? What purpose would his being there achieve?

No doubt the brass would want their pound of flesh from him, just as the Malucci's had. They would sit and berate him on his foolhardiness and his belief that he could carry off the operation on his own. They would tell him that he had been wrong to keep his affiliation with the FBI from them, and castigate him for the mess that he had left behind.

Meeting with Lori had already proved how disastrous it was to attempt to make peace with the past. Going back and explaining himself to her had done nothing but make his situation ten times worse. Surely it was better to let sleeping dogs lie?

Heading back to the city that he had run from would not make things any better, there was no point in raking up a past that was better left buried. But he had once more been thrust into an impossible situation, one where his choices had been taken away from him. Again. The Chief had made it clear that the NYPD would not take no for an answer, they would likely have sent out a warrant for his arrest if he'd refused their request. But he was through with running and hiding, he would take whatever they threw at him and face it head-on.

He watched as the luscious palm trees whizzed by, in a few short hours they would be replaced by concrete and steel, the cold and hard metropolis that New York was famed for. Gone would be the warmth and sunshine, in its place would be the grey skies and harsh winds of spring, no doubt a precursor to his own season of discontent.

"I'm kind of excited," Kyle said as he looked out of the window of the cab, taking in the sight of Miami International Airport in the distance. "I've never been to New York before."

"Kid, it's not the kind of place to get excited about. New York's a shit-hole, take it from a native," Andy snorted in a derisive tone. "Ain't that right, John?"

There was no response coming from the other man as he continued to watch the scene pass by through the car window. Andy shrugged his shoulders and returned his attention back to Kyle who sat on the opposite side to his father.

"What about Grand Central Station, City Hall, Madison Square Gardens?" Kyle clicked his fingers in an excited fashion as another destination popped into his head, "Yankee Stadium?"

The boy had obviously inherited his father's inexplicable love for the dreaded Yankees. The kind of ugly bastard team that only a mother could love. It had always been a small bone of contention between him and John, he could never understand how a man as seemingly intelligent as his young partner could support such a sorry excuse for a team. He'd always been a Mets fan himself, and by rights John should have been too, hailing from Queens and all. But the Mets had sucked majorly for years, the Yankees were the glory team, the ones who had the best players and won the most trophies, it was easy to see why a young boy would favour the more fashionable Yankees over their poor relation in Queens. Perhaps he was just being sour because his team never won and John's always did, that and the fact that he had lost countless bets with his young partner over it.

His heart ached for those days when he and John would tease each other about their sports affiliations, they had such an easy banter as partners and knew each other well. Or so he thought they had. Was part of the anger that he'd directed at John because he'd found himself wanting as a friend to him in the first place?

He'd been too wrapped up in his own issues to see what had been staring him in the face. John had been struggling for months with the burden of living a double life, yet he himself barely gave his partner a second thought. There were times when he had noticed that things weren't right with his friend, but he'd chosen not to say anything or had become so consumed with his own problems that he'd let the opportunity to ask slip away from him time and again.

John had needed a friend, he'd needed someone to listen and understand, but he had turned him away the moment something went wrong. He'd allowed his stupid, arrogant pride to prevent him from seeing the truth behind the web of lies that his partner had spun in order to keep his dealings with the FBI a secret. He'd washed his hands of his young charge after he'd been given a mouthful from him, he'd allowed John to push him away so easily as he trudged off to lick his wounds in private. But his partner's cutting words had hurt him deeply, they had been stingingly accurate, too.

Perhaps some of the ill will that John's words had created had been caused by the fact that he'd let the slightly cocky young upstart into his life in the first place. It had always been his experience that those closest to you often hurt you the worst, they knew your weaknesses and exactly what to say to cause the maximum amount of damage possible. John had known exactly what to say in order to exploit his weaknesses, and being the poor friend that he was, he had allowed him to do so, preferring to grow to hate the man that he'd come to think of as a son.

It had been so much easier to hate John for the last twenty years, that way he wouldn't have to deal with the truth of the situation. The truth was that as the years rolled by, he became less angry at John and more angry at himself that he had not seen the situation coming. He'd been blindsided by his partner's apparent betrayal of the badge and everything that he claimed to stand for, and he'd willingly let himself believe that John had done it for no more than his own selfish greed.

But he'd known the man much better than to think that he would have sold his soul for money, that wasn't the way John was. But then the thought had occurred to him that perhaps he hadn't known his partner all that well in the first place. Anger, bitterness and disappointment all rolled into one until he could no longer differentiate one from the other. All of the negativity served to fuel his frustration further, to the point that he no longer cared about John or the man that he'd become. He'd refused to go to his funeral and had attempted to remove every last reminder of his time with the crooked cop from his life.

But then John's colleague from Miami had come knocking at his door, begging for answers to questions that he'd long since buried deep within himself. His first reaction had been shock, that quickly turned to anger, as he had once more been confronted with his former partner's betrayal of everything that he had claimed to care about. Memories of those dark days when they had been on opposite sides of the fence flew unbidden through his mind, those days when he would assume the role of hunter and John the hunted. No, he didn't want to go back and revisit any of that. Not ever.

His anger grew as Eric showed him a photograph of a man that he had assumed dead for nearly two decades. Suddenly, the thought that John could be alive and well after all those years angered him even further. After all of the destruction that he'd left behind, where was the justice in John living a carefree life in the millionaire's playground of Miami?

But as he listened to Eric, it became apparent that perhaps John had not been living the easy life after all. It was only when the Cuban had nearly battered the front door to his apartment down that he realised the level of trouble that his old partner was in. He'd reluctantly agreed to head to Miami, unsure of how he would react to seeing John for the first time in nearly twenty years.

As he set eyes on the sorry figure of his former partner, his first reaction had been righteous anger that he'd been lied to and betrayed. His fury at John knew no bounds as he shouted the odds at the injured man, refusing to believe that he was not faking the amnesia that had stolen so many memories from him. He had stood and vented as his resentment of his former friend overflowed, years of pain and frustration rising to the surface. How dare this man who had betrayed him so many years ago now come snivelling back, begging for his help?

But as John's situation became even more dire, he began to realise what a horrendous mistake he had made. It became increasingly apparent that John had been caught in a horrific situation, that he had made choices that would lead the people who cared about him to hate him, and that he had done so willingly in order to protect them. The more he learned about John's chequered past, the greater a fool he felt for ever believing that someone as honest and loyal as him could ever have been a dirty cop.

His admiration for his old partner had grown as he came to understand just why John had done those things. With the benefit of hindsight, he could now clearly see what he'd been denying to himself for years. Well, hindsight sucked, what use was it when the damage was already done? No, hindsight was about as much use as a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest. It was stupid, useless, there was no benefit in knowing what a prick you'd been when it was too late to do anything about it.

Yet that had been something else that John had shown him. He'd shown this sorry old excuse for a man that although the past could not be changed, the future could. John had shown him how to learn from past mistakes and use them to become a better man. Looking back on it, John had always been a much better man than he had, and a better friend too. It took guts and strength to do what he had, and he'd deserved to be respected for it.

But John's sacrifices had come at a high price. When the Malucci's had finally caught up to him, they had meted out their own special brand of justice on him, beating him and abusing him to within an inch of his life. Their endgame had been to kill him, that much was obvious, but he had once again been the architect of his own escape. He'd had no idea how the man had done it, but he'd survived the blast on the boat by the skin of his teeth. He'd survived long enough after floating listlessly out at sea to be rescued and brought back ashore, more dead than alive.

It was only when John had recovered enough to regain consciousness that any of them realised the lengths that the Malucci's had gone to make him suffer. As the poor man had laid hurting, emotionally and physically, he had sworn to himself, and to John, that he would be the kind of friend that he deserved. He would no longer be the one who did all the taking, he would give, and give gladly, to the man who had risked his life to protect him and countless others. He would protect John with his life, guarding him from anyone who meant him physical or emotional harm. He would be the kind of friend that John had always been to him, the kind of friend who did whatever it took to be what the other man needed. He would always have his back and never, ever let him down again. He'd been given a second chance to repair the wounds of the past, and this time, he was not going to let it slip away from him.

The taxi cab came to a halt as the Indian driver turned around from his seat and looked at his passengers expectantly, a big, toothy grin on his worn face. It fell to Andy to begrudgingly pull his wallet from his pants pocket and hand a couple of bills over to him.

"Luggage, sir?" the driver asked in heavily accented English.

"Nah, we'll get it from the trunk ourselves," Andy responded as he nudged Kyle to get moving and open the door, not wanting to give the excited driver any more reasons to hold his palm out expectantly again. "You got a receipt?" This trip was meant to be on the NYPD's dime, and he was damn sure that he was going to get reimbursed for his expenditure.

The driver looked at him disdainfully and tutted as he shook his head, scribbling down the fare in barely legible English before thrusting it into his hand. "Safe trip, sir," the man's tone was downright sarcastic as he spoke. He resisted the urge to retort in kind, racial relations had never been a strong point of his, experience taught him that it was better to bite down on whatever was on the tip of his tongue and save it for another time.

Seeing that John was still in a world of his own, he nudged him with his elbow gently and pointed to the large building in front of them. "We're here," he mumbled, stating the obvious and feeling suddenly foolish for doing so. He was rewarded with a brief glance and nod of the head as he watched his old partner reluctantly pull himself from the car.

He couldn't fail to notice the slump in John's shoulders as he wordlessly pulled his bag from the trunk of the car and trudged towards the departures lounge. It seemed as if the weight that he carried grew heavier with each step that he took closer to New York, as though he were a man heading to his own execution. He didn't envy the man, it would likely be a highly emotional experience to return to a place that he'd run from so many years ago. But John wouldn't take well to his coddling of him either, so he allowed him to walk a few steps ahead and followed silently behind, always on the lookout for anything he perceived as a threat to the younger man.

"Do you think he's ok?" Kyle asked him quietly as they fell in-step with each other.

How could he answer that without worrying the kid? Hadn't Kyle already proved that he was mature enough to handle and accept the truth?

"Not really, kid," he answered honestly as he kept his eyes on his old partner. "Heading back home is gonna kick the shit out of him."

"It's not fair," Kyle growled in frustration, "Why do they have to do this to him? Hasn't he been through enough already?"

He allowed a small smile to creep across his face, the boy was so much like his father with his sense of frustration of the injustices that were forced upon the people around him. John had always been that way, putting others before himself and caring more about those around him than he did his own well-being.

There wasn't really much he could say in response to Kyle's comments, so he shrugged his shoulders and gave the only answer he could. "That's why we're going with him. We're gonna show him that he's not alone anymore, ain't that right, kid?"

He felt a small surge of warmth flow through his body as he saw the smile on Kyle's face. He knew then that he'd have an ally for life in the young man, they would forever be united in their concern and determination to protect the man they had both come to love in such different ways.

Fortune seemed to be favouring the three travellers today, Kyle had managed to book the last remaining seat on the flight to JFK along with his father and Andy. The young man dreaded the thought of not being there with his father as his plane landed, it felt good to know that he would be able to stand shoulder to shoulder with his old man, every step of the way.

He kept a close eye on his father as they sat on the hard plastic chairs in the departure lounge, watching the way that his shoulders slumped as he rested his elbows on his knees, his head drooping downwards. It hurt to see him in such a state, yet he knew that there would be nothing he could do to make things any easier, except being there when he was needed. His eyes travelled to the small object in his father's hands, he'd been staring at his cell phone for the last ten minutes or so, and Kyle had no doubt that the other man was debating with himself as to whether to call Calleigh or not.

His father had not exactly given him much of an explanation for leaving the woman that he loved and it was clear to see that he was struggling with his decision, even after he had packed his bags and moved back into his own house. He knew the man well enough to know that he had not come to the decision easily, and that it pained him to cause suffering and misery to those around him.

He wanted to tell him that he should call her, that they should talk about things and try to sort their problems out. But it was not his place to meddle in the older man's affairs, and he would not be thanked for doing so. He'd come to learn just how private a man his father was, he'd been lucky in the fact that he'd been let in as close as he had, but one wrong move could revoke his access instantly.

Perhaps Calleigh had beaten him to it, he thought, as he heard the melodic ringtone of the other man's phone. He was momentarily disappointed when his father raised himself wearily to his feet and trudged a few steps away, no doubt to carry out his conversation in private.

Horatio pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration as he instantly recognised the number on his phone. Hauling his tired body to his feet, he took a few steps, placing distance between himself and his travelling companions, as he answered the call tersely.

"Not a fan of flying then, Horatio?" Jeff's teasing tone riled him more than he cared to admit. How did the damn man know he was at the airport?

"What can I do for you, doctor?" he replied in a gruff growl.

The therapist's tone softened somewhat as he heard the weariness in the other man's voice. "Alexx told me that you're heading back to New York, are you sure that's a good idea?"

He let out a dramatic sigh as he closed his eyes and screwed them shut. Returning to New York was the last thing that he wanted to do, he would've much rather forgot about the whole sordid affair. But he didn't have a choice. "It wasn't my decision. I've been summoned." He almost spat the last word out as his frustration at his current situation began to build.

"How long are you planning to be there for?"

"I'm not sure. A few days, perhaps."

"So you won't be able to make your next appointment then?" Jeff asked, knowing that he'd get an acerbic reply in response.

"Probably not, no."

Jeff momentarily thought that he might have been mistaken, did he really hear a hint of disappointment in Horatio's response? "Tell you what, then. How about we do our sessions over the phone while you're out of state?"

"Jeff, I don't really think that's necessary," Horatio began to argue before being cut off by the other man.

"Horatio, going back home is going to bring a lot of emotional stuff up for you. You're going to need some perspective on things, you can't do this alone."

"I'm not alone. Andy and Kyle have insisted that they come with me."

Jeff smiled down the phone and let out a small chuckle. "Good for them," he said with a hint of pride in his voice. How could Horatio not see how many good people were around him, willing to help him for no other reason than that they loved him? "Still, I'm going to call you every other day that you're there and you're going to talk to me about what you're going through."

"You make it sound like an order," Horatio grimaced in response.

"I can…. If you like…."

"No. I get the point, Jeff. I'll answer and we'll…talk." He'd spoken the last word in such a way as if it was something dirty, it caused Jeff to let out another small chuckle at his reluctant client.

"Glad you see things my way, Lieutenant."

"It's not like I have much choice, is it?"

The bitterness in Horatio's voice gave him cause for concern. "We always have a choice, Horatio, it's how we make them that counts."

_"__Attention, will all passengers booked on Flight 386 to New York please make their way to the departure gate."_

"My flight's being called," Horatio mumbled as he saw his perfect chance to end the conversation with Jeff. "I have to go now."

The therapist knew that his client wasn't lying, he'd heard the boarding call in the background only moments ago. "Ok, safe flight, Horatio. I'll call you tomorrow evening. Take care, ok?"

Jeff could've sworn that he almost heard the hint of a faint laugh from the other man. "You too, my friend," Horatio responded as he disconnected the call and walked the few paces back for his bags.

Andy pulled himself up and made his way over to his old partner. "You ready, kid?"

Horatio shook his head and answered honestly. "No, not really." He was glad when Andy didn't respond with some meaninglessly clichéd platitude and instead placed an arm around his heavy shoulders, gripping him firmly, giving him his silent support as they made their way to the gate.


	7. Chapter 7

She'd never been as embarrassed in her life as she had this morning. Hillary Craig had woken up, much like she did every morning, and had got herself dressed and ready for work, silently dreading the day ahead and the work that she would be forced to carry out. Other cops never gave her the time of day, except to berate her and call her names for the role that she played within the Department. No, no one liked a rat, and they liked members of IAB even less.

She had naïvely believed that this morning would be the same as any other, she would be forced to attend the weekly meeting with her colleagues, listening to the gleeful way that some of them went about their jobs, finding satisfaction in trying to end the careers of good cops in an effort to boost their own low self-esteem. She'd never wanted to end up in IAB, and she'd hated every minute of it since her transfer.

She wouldn't let other people see how much of a toll it took on her though, she had taught herself to hide behind the image of a ballsy career woman, a cop who would do whatever it took to get to the truth and get the job done. The other cops around her hated her for being a member of the rat squad, so why not throw the kitchen sink at it and live up to the slimy reputation and really give them something to hate her for?

Her ice-cold demeanour became a shield, protecting the real Hillary from being seen by the rest of the world. It became so easy to hide behind her prim and proper image, the snide remarks came to her remarkably naturally as she cut numerous more experienced officers down to size and ended their careers. But as the months turned in to years, she found herself growing increasingly settled into the role of cold-hearted IAB bitch and lost a little more of the real Hillary with every passing day.

She'd thought the real Hillary had long since been buried beneath the bitterness and frustration at the hopeless situation that she found herself in, that was until she'd chanced upon a colleague that she hadn't seen for years.

She'd been handed the juiciest case of her career so far when her superior dropped a file on her desk those short few weeks ago. One look at the photo attached to the front of the manila envelope and she knew that she'd been given a case that could define the rest of her career. She'd studied the image of the redhead for hours before opening the file and reading further, her interest quickly turning to glee as she read of the sorry state of affairs that had befallen the lieutenant. He would be easy pickings for her, just another name to cross off of her list and another picture to add to her wall of shame.

She'd heard all of the stories about the wily lieutenant and how Rick Stetler, her former colleague, had never been able to make anything stick on the man. She and the rest of the IAB squad had often watched on in some amusement as Rick tried, and failed, several times to get his man and had always ended up empty-handed. It was almost fun to watch the two men go at it, and even more enjoyable when that pompous ass Rick was always left red-faced as Caine once again wriggled out of another jam and came away squeaky clean.

Rick's hounding of Caine became an obsession, something that consumed his every waking thought, and something that eventually led to the end of his own career. But Rick Stetler was an arrogant prick and he'd got what he deserved when he'd been caught red-handed with his greasy palms in the Department cash register, so to speak.

But Horatio Caine had fallen from his lofty perch, he'd been abducted and tortured by men from his past and left for dead. She'd read all about the injuries and the medical interventions that had been used to bring him back towards the land of the living. His recovery had been painfully slow, he'd hardly been seen for months, until only a week or so ago. Internal Affairs had gotten wind of his intention to take the Department physical and psychiatric assessments in order to return as head of the Crime Lab.

She'd seen him on the day that he'd arrived for the physical, he looked gaunt and worryingly thin, a shell of the man that he used to be. More than that, she'd seen that hollow look in his eyes, as if he wasn't sure if coming back to the Department was something that he even wanted to do. For the first time since she'd transferred to Internal Affairs, she'd seen the great Horatio Caine appear vulnerable. He'd been weakened by what had been done to him, and it was up to her to exploit his vulnerabilities. He'd looked more like a shell-shocked soldier than a stoic leader of men, she would take him down easily and build a name and a reputation for herself in the process. She would be viewed as powerful, a woman to be feared by those around her, much like the man whose career she would finally end.

But she had received fierce resistance from his team as they all closed ranks and defended him. Not one of them gave her so much as a hint of any wrongdoing, no matter how much she tried to push them into confessing something. Most of all, she'd been treated with downright hostility by his team as they shot back with stinging remarks of their own. But she could have taken all of those taunts and more, had it not been for having to question her old academy colleague, Ryan Wolfe.

The two of them had enjoyed a blossoming friendship at the academy, their playful flirting nothing more than innocent banter between them. But time and their careers had come between them, to the point that they found themselves losing contact completely. Had Ryan even known that she'd transferred to IAB? Had he even cared what had happened to her?

He certainly seemed shocked when she breezed into the room that day to interview him about his colleagues. Ryan had always had such a terrible poker face, it was one of the things that made him such a lousy gambler. The meeting had been a shock for both of them, and Ryan's parting words had hurt more than anything else that had been thrown at her during that week.

She'd gone home that night, opened a bottle of wine and kept pouring herself a glass until the bottle was empty, trying vainly to drink the pain of the day away. But the alcohol had only served to make her maudlin and even more depressed than she had been before she started. The hot, salty tears had begun to fall not long after, her intoxicated state not allowing her to keep her usual tight grip on her emotions as she sobbed for the injustices that had been forced upon her.

With her momentary meltdown out of the way, she'd woken the next day with a decidedly sore head but a renewed sense of determination in that she was doing the right thing in hounding the lieutenant and his team. They were hiding something, of that she was sure, and she would find out, one way or another, and keep digging until she got to the truth.

But Ryan had kept ringing, he'd kept hassling her, texting her and demanding that they meet. She'd tried to ignore it, but still he kept bugging her until she finally caved. She'd agreed to meet him someplace neutral in order to listen to what he had to say, hoping that he'd finally get the message to leave her alone.

She'd expected another lecture, or perhaps some more of those stinging jibes that he'd sent her way a few days before, but what she had not been expecting was for her old academy buddy to hold out a hand in friendship. She'd told herself that there was an ulterior motive for his actions, there had to be, there was simply no other explanation for his grand gesture of forgiveness and understanding. Had Caine put him up to it? Was this another of the lieutenant's games, designed to take the focus of the hunt off of himself?

Whatever it was, she didn't trust it or Ryan and his attempts to make peace with her. She'd already handed her report into her investigation in to her superiors at IAB, it wouldn't have made any difference what he'd said to her at that point. Yet the more she looked into his eyes, the more uncertain she became about his intentions, were they honourable after all?

He'd said that he wanted nothing more than a second chance at their friendship, and she had to admit that she was desperately short on those at the moment. Ryan didn't seem to care that every other cop on the force hated her for the job that she did, he'd told her as much when she warned him of looking guilty by association by even being seen with her.

Against her better judgement, she had agreed to go to a bar with him a few days ago. A couple of beers later and her lips were definitely looser than when she'd walked in. She vaguely remembered moaning about how awful it was to work for Internal Affairs as Ryan just sat opposite her quietly, smiling as he kept a steady flow of beers coming her way. They'd laughed and giggled like old school friends and it had felt good to be in the company of another human being, and a decent one at that. Or so she'd thought, until this morning.

It had taken her by surprise when her supervisor had taken her to one side after the group meeting, the stern look on his face meant that it would not bode well for her. It had been just as much of a shock to her as it had to her boss when he slammed the transfer request down on the desk in front of her.

"What is the meaning of this, Sargeant Craig?" Captain Griggs hissed as he sat down forcefully in the chair behind his desk.

"I'm not sure I understand, sir," she'd replied, clearly puzzled.

"I've had this land on my desk this morning," he motioned to the file in front of him. "The Chief has authorised your transfer already. Why did you not tell me of your intention to leave? Do you know how much of a fool I looked when I spoke to Chief Martin this morning?"

She held her hands up in a sign of innocence. "Captain, I have no idea what you're talking about….honestly." And it was the truth, she hadn't got a clue where the transfer request had come from.

Captain Griggs pinned her with a steely glare as he attempted to gauge her level of honesty. "This will be your last week with us here in Internal Affairs. Next week you're to report to Sargeant Tripp, you'll be working on the regular day shift from now on."

"Sir, I don't understand," she repeated, still no more aware of what was happening than she had been a moment or two ago. Why on earth would she be sent to work in Homicide, especially with a colleague like Sargent Tripp, a man that she'd angered only a few short days ago? She had no doubt that the burly detective would not be able to stand the sight of her, how would they ever be able to work together or as part of a team?

The Captain looked at her briefly, still clearly disgusted that he had been left out of the loop in her future career plans. "Lieutenant Caine requested you personally and the Chief agreed. Seems you've made some friends down there, Sargent," he sniffed derisively as he returned his attention to the papers on his desk.

He'd refused to look at her after that, giving a clear signal that he was done with both her and their discussion. She let herself out of his office quietly, still holding the transfer request in her hands. She fell heavily into the seat at her desk and read through the paperwork once more. Two sheets of A4 paper stapled together, the top page marred by a thick red stamp with the word 'approved' on it. Glancing further down, she saw the signature of Horatio Caine, the man that she had made it her goal to bring down.

It made no sense to her. Why would a man that she had hounded for the past week willingly request her presence in his team of detectives, surely he hated her and everything that she stood for? Had Ryan and the rest of his team been right when they told her what an honest and true man Horatio Caine was? Was she being given a second chance by a man who she'd refused to do the same for?

And then it clicked. She knew exactly who had been the architect in this little charade. Suddenly, memories of pouring her heart out to Ryan at that bar came flooding back, as she told him of how crappy her life had become now that she was in IAB. It had only been a few days ago that Ryan had spoken to her of forgiveness and second chances, it made sense that he'd be the one to engineer such a career move.

Part of her was silently glad that he'd done such a thing, and touched by the sentiment behind it, yet the other half of her was livid that he'd gone behind her back and asked for a favour on her behalf. Her pride stung at the fact that Ryan thought that he was in the position to somehow have control over her career, and how he saw fit to meddle in her life. And so she had called him, not expecting him to answer when he did, and had given him a monumental dressing down for what he had done. She had not allowed him the time to explain himself, such was her level of anger towards him.

But the more she sat and thought about it, the more sense she could see in Ryan's logic. She'd been silently hoping for years that she would somehow find her way out of the mess that she'd gotten into, that she'd somehow manage to escape the clutches of the dreaded rat squad. And now here was the perfect opportunity to do just that, this was the chance that she'd been waiting years for. Did it really matter how it had come about?

There would be time to apologise to Ryan later, but for now it was more important for her to see out the rest of her time with IAB as best she could, all the while trying to figure out how she would build bridges with a team of people who hated her. At least she had Ryan on her side, hopefully that would count for something with his colleagues.

She'd been thrown a lifeline by Ryan, it would do neither of them any good if she allowed her stubborn pride to get in the way of the second chance that she had been offered. She would take the cruel remarks from her new team in her stride and would keep her head down, hoping to prove that she was worth the faith that her old friend had placed in her.


	8. Chapter 8

He honestly hadn't been expecting Sally to turn up for work this morning, especially considering what had happened to her yesterday. The incident had shaken both of them up, neither he, nor Sally had ever been put in such a perilous situation before. Thank God that Horatio had been with them at the time, who knew what might have happened otherwise?

Despite his issues, Horatio Caine was still a fine police officer, able to take any given situation in hand and deal with it accordingly. He'd dealt with the armed gunman and had remained cool and collected, regardless of whatever else might have been happening in his own life. It amazed him that the stubborn man couldn't see any of his good qualities and had chosen to mire himself in his perceived failings instead.

If it hadn't been for Horatio's decisive action, the situation could have turned into something much worse. As a psychologist, he had always prided himself on being able to deal with any given circumstance, yet at the first sign of trouble he had fallen to pieces. His client had been the one to instil him with some much-needed reassurance for once. Looking back on it now, he could see the smart thinking behind the lieutenant's instructions to him.

_Give him something to do, it'll stop the panic from taking over._

And it had worked, by the time he had made the call and relayed the information, a shot had rung out. His first thought was that something had gone wrong and that either Sally or Horatio had been killed by the armed intruder. It was only when he heard his client's low voice that he realised that the situation had been dealt with as he continued to listen to the words that Horatio was mumbling to his assistant on the other side of the door.

His fear had kept him gripped in place like some small child, he couldn't find it within himself to open the door until he heard the chatter of police officers and the crackling of radios fill his reception room. He willed himself to open the door and take a step outside, yet he couldn't seem to stop his hands from shaking. Stupid male pride had kept him in the office until he heard a soft knock at the door. At least those precious few moments had given him time to regain his composure, it would do no good to let his client, or Sally see just how much the incident had shaken him.

In hindsight, perhaps he hadn't dealt all that well with the subsequent interview and statement that he'd given to Horatio's colleague, Detective Tripp. He'd flat-out lied at one point, yet at the time he saw it as nothing more than a little fib, something that could be brushed under the carpet and forgotten about. The more he thought about it, the more he realised that Horatio Caine was a man who prided himself on integrity and honesty, and that he expected the same in return from the people around him.

Perhaps he was no better than Calleigh in the fact that he had lied in order to protect him, yet another part of him felt justified in taking those actions. His client was a good man and a fine police officer, he was someone who had been through a devastating set of events and deserved a break to go his way for once in his life. It just didn't seem fair that the poor man would be raked across the coals for actually doing the brave and admirable thing in admitting that he needed help.

He'd dealt with countless police officers before, all of whom were usually too proud to admit to their failings as a human being. Yes, Horatio had been an unwilling participant in his first session, yet he could see the small breakthroughs that he was making with the man. Little by little, his client's defences were being broken down and it seemed as if he was finally gaining Horatio's trust and respect. He only hoped that he hadn't knocked down the foundations that he'd built in one hefty blow with his rash decision to jump in and defend him.

Was that why he felt like an awkward teenager on his first day at school, as he sat hemming and hawing at his desk that morning? He'd seen a handful of clients and had hoped that they would distract him from the awkward conversation that he would eventually have with Horatio. A night of sleep, and a good chat with his wife, Martha had enabled Jeff to wake this morning with a better perspective on yesterday's events.

If one chose to be a psychologist, it was important that he himself should be able to recognise his own faults and admit when he was wrong. It was not his place to sit and judge others as they divulged their deepest secrets and darkest desires to him, especially if he were no better himself. Maybe he'd indulged in his own self-importance a little too much recently, got too cocky in regards to his dealing with the shortcomings of others to understand that there were facets of his own personality that still needed working on.

His actions yesterday had served to make this abundantly clear to him. He'd made the wrong decision and had been at fault, now it was up to him to rectify the situation before it got out of hand. He also prided himself on being an honourable man, he would swallow his pride and apologise to Horatio in the hopes that they could still maintain a professional relationship. More than that, he'd come to the realisation that he actually quite liked the man, prickly and guarded as he could be at times, underneath the stress and pain was a genuinely good and kind-hearted man, a man that commanded respect.

That might have been a contributing factor to his own behaviour yesterday. He'd been placed in a highly-charged situation and had almost let his panic take over his rational thinking. Had it been the adrenaline still coursing through his veins that had caused him to blurt out a bare-faced lie to the police? Had his first instinct been to protect the man that he now saw as a friend?

To have genuinely warm feelings towards a client was always a perilous road to travel. He could respect and admire his clients, but to actually be friends with one of them was another situation entirely. The role of a therapist was not to be a friend but a listening board for the troubled client, someone who had no vested interest in the actions of the person they served. To spend all day listening to the faults of clients was not an easy thing to do, especially if he found himself liking that person.

It was so much easier to listen to people who were distinctly unlikeable, and certainly much easier to distance himself from their woes. The majority of his clients were rich men and spoiled young adults whose biggest concerns were their choice of car or holiday home in the Caribbean, while others would bemoan their lot in life as they juggled a wife and a secret lover or the question of where they would retire to at 40.

Clients like Horatio didn't walk in off the street every day, they would often be forced to visit a therapist and likely dragged to his office kicking and screaming. Yet clients like the good lieutenant were also the most satisfying to work with and served to remind him why he did this job in the first place. He liked nothing more than a good puzzle to solve, and Horatio Caine fit his requirements for that perfectly. He was an enigma, a paradox, a multi-layered puzzle that needed solving.

More than that, Horatio Caine was a good man and a soul definitely worth saving. The man would be hard work, he knew that from the moment he met him, yet he also knew how much pain the man was in and how heavily the weight of responsibility weighed on him. His client was distrustful of therapists, wary and defensive when asked about his past, yet that was part of what made dealing with people like him so much more appealing. Peeling back the layers of a man such as Horatio would be a challenge in itself and the results would be equally rewarding and beneficial for both of them. In his client he saw a good person, a man who had been dealt some cruel blows, but a man who was also ready to admit that he could no longer cope.

Horatio had raised his voice, reacted with anger and frustration, but they had all been classic responses of someone who was in pain, yet too proud to admit it. But he had persisted with his reluctant client, and had slowly broken down some of the walls that had been built around his heart and mind. Horatio was not a man who trusted others easily and so it was a major achievement when he'd finally relented and begun opening up and being honest with himself.

Progress was slow, but it was progress. Horatio was coming to his own conclusions and realisations about his behaviour and his past, he was finally moving in the right direction. Things had been going well, hell the man had even called him 'friend' at one point. Why then, did he feel as if he could have blown it completely with his own reckless actions yesterday?

By early afternoon he realised that he could put the call off no longer. With a deep sigh and sweaty palms, he lifted the telephone from its cradle and dialled the lieutenant's number, not even sure if the man would pick up.

It had been an awkward conversation at first, it had sounded as if his client had not been all that happy to hear from him. He'd tried to keep his tone and speech jovial, knowing that Horatio wouldn't react well to being told what to do or being given orders. The man had been reluctant to speak to him at first but had eventually agreed to keep in contact while he was out of state, and he for one was glad that his client had been willing to continue with their sessions, despite the earlier indiscretion.

It was a good job too, he'd got the call from Alexx in the morning and heard all about Horatio's plans to go back home and how he'd been forced into doing so. From what he knew of him, Horatio was not the kind of man who would take well to being forced to do anything, and so it was important that he be on hand should the lieutenant need to talk through any feelings that were brought up from the visit.

It also concerned him that Alexx had been upset by the fact that Horatio had all but moved out of Calleigh's home the day before. It occurred to him, after talking to the doctor, that perhaps it had been a smart decision for Horatio to do so, even if Calleigh and his friends did not agree with it. His client appeared to be the kind of person who tried to be all things to all people, those kinds of folks inevitably ended up spreading themselves too thin in an effort to please everyone and then feeling as if they'd let them all down. Horatio had never really been given the chance, since his rescue, to really concentrate on what he needed. He had become too concerned with not being the person that his friends needed, rather than discovering who he was now.

His friends meant well, but from talking with Horatio it was becoming clear to see that they were also placing unreasonable demands on him, too. Perhaps some distance from all concerned would actually do the man some good and enable him to gain a little perspective on things. When he'd called Horatio, he'd found that he was already at the airport and waiting to board his flight. He could sense the fatigue in his voice and was surprised that he'd been so open to continuing with his therapy sessions. He knew better than to push his client, and so chose to not raise the issue of his living arrangements until a more suitable time.

It would have to be dealt with though, it was clear to him as a therapist that Horatio loved the woman that he lived with and it was obvious that she had not taken the news of his leaving well. She would likely have been hurt by his actions, he hoped that with a little time she would be able to see the reasons why Horatio had done it. Calleigh had been accepting of all of his shortcomings and faults so far, it stood to reason that once she got over the initial pain of his leaving that she would come to realise that he had done it because he loved her.

But his musings in regards to Horatio were providing nothing more than a distraction from the issues at hand. Sally had arrived at the office this morning with puffy eyes and a look of genuine weariness on her sweet young face. Her normally ever-present smile and bright demeanor had been replaced with a frown and hooded eyes, something that he'd noticed in the last few days, too.

Sally had been his client for a number of years, they had met when she was nothing more than an unruly teenager and he had been entrusted by her foster parents to help her overcome the issues that plagued her. Sally had been a tough nut to crack, her parents had been killed in a car accident when she was just eight years old. What had made their deaths all the more traumatic was the fact that poor young Sally had been in the car at the time of the accident, strapped into the backseat and pinned by the crushed rear door, she had been unable to move or do a thing to help her mother and father as they took their final gasping breaths in the front of the vehicle.

He remembered shuddering involuntarily as a teenage Sally recounted the manner of her parent's deaths, how she heard her mother wailing in agony and her father taking pained, wet-sounding breaths as the blood dripped from the many wounds on his body. The family had taken a day trip into the 'Glades and were on their way home when an alligator had scampered across the road in front of their vehicle. Her father had tried to swerve to avoid the large beastly animal and had lost traction on the old dirt track, the recent stormy weather had left the area little more than a muddy bog. The car had skidded and swerved before rolling down a considerable embankment, finally coming to rest by the water's edge. The car had been old, too old for airbags to have been fitted as standard, the rusty old car offered little in the way of protection as it had rolled down the steep incline and landed on the driver's side of the vehicle.

Sally had been surly and dismissive at first, yet it was easy to see why. He'd remembered how in one session Sally had recounted more of the accident and how she had remained trapped in the car for some four or five hours before another vehicle passed by the area and had noticed the beams of light from the water's edge. It unnerved him to listen to her as she told him of the alligators that had begun to circle the car, smelling the fresh blood as it dripped from the lifeless bodies of her parents. How frightening it must have been for a young girl, not only to be trapped in a car with her dead parents, but to know that huge, vicious beasts were circling around you and coming ever closer by the minute. At least her parents would have been spared the horror of being torn limb from limb, but Sally would have been eaten alive and tossed between the ferocious creatures like a rag doll as the alligators fought between themselves and pulled her small body apart.

Had that not been enough for one young girl to suffer? Her parents had never been particularly close to any of their relatives and so Sally had no family willing to take her in. That had left her in the hands of Child Services who had seen fit to place her in foster homes instead. It had been no wonder that Sally had acted out in the way that she had, she'd been given next to no support to deal with the death of her parents and had been placed in the hands of some less than suitable foster parents. Until she had found the Watsons, at least.

He had been treating Miles Watson for a number of years, a kindly yet ageing man who had seen his fair share of horrors in his life. He'd always admired the way that Miles had used his troubled past as a motivation to do better and be a better man. It had been through sheer hard work and determination that Miles had made a life for himself and found a good woman in his wife, Marnie. There had been times in Miles Watson's younger years that he had scrimped and saved every dollar that came his way, perhaps karma had finally proven itself to be more than a myth when one day Miles came into a great deal of money after selling his small business for a huge profit.

It had allowed Miles and Marnie to build the life and home that they had always wanted, it had also allowed Miles to continue to use his therapy sessions, although he liked the curmudgeonly old man so much that he had been tempted to offer his continued services for free. Miles would hear nothing of it though, he was a man of principles and pride if nothing else.

One of his client's biggest regrets was that he and Marnie had spent too much of their life building their business and had never considered the thought of having children until it was too late. They had tried, hoping on the off-chance that they would get lucky, but it was not to be. As Miles therapist, he had recommended that they try adopting, but again they were considered too old and were told that their only option would be to foster children and teenagers instead.

It hadn't been an easy decision for the Watsons, but finally they agreed that perhaps fostering would be an ideal way to repay some of the good fortune that had been bestowed upon them as a couple. A few years had passed, Miles and his wife had fostered a number of children with differing levels of success, until one day, Sally Keats had entered their lives, all purple-dyed hair, Goth make up and attitude.

From the very first session after Sally had arrived in the Watson's lives, he could see the glint in Miles eyes as he spoke about his wayward young charge, a glint that had normally been reserved for the success of his business ventures. Miles had seen something in the rude and abrasive teenager that must have struck a chord with him as he immediately asked for his therapist to speak with her.

He had always been against treating one or more member of a family for fear of being caught in the middle of potentially explosive arguments, yet once he'd met Sally, he knew he could try to make a difference to her young and difficult life. He'd agreed to treat both Miles and Sally on the understanding that there would be no discussing of each other's issues.

It had been an agreement that had served both of his clients well, and he had enjoyed watching how both of them had grown closer together, as Sally slowly learned to let go of the past and move forward with her life. Sally had perhaps been one of his proudest achievements as a therapist, he had helped to turn the life of a troubled teenager around, a young girl who might have otherwise ended up lost in the system forever, passed from different foster homes until she inevitably found herself in jail.

But Sally was a girl with a great deal of promise, she would be able to do great things with her life, given the tools and opportunities to do so. She had already matured from a troubled teenager to a blossoming young woman, who potentially had the world at her feet. She was still prone to making bad decisions, but then so was everyone else. Still, it didn't shake the growing feeling within him that perhaps Sally was in some sort of trouble.

He'd noticed small changes in her behaviour recently and had started with the intention each day to ask her if everything was alright. But as clients turned up and required his attention, thoughts of Sally were placed at the back of his mind as he dealt with the emotionally needy people of Miami. He'd been intending to raise the issue with her yesterday after his session with Horatio, until all hell broke loose that was.

Sally had been deeply traumatised by being held at gunpoint and it had likely brought back some highly unpleasant memories for her, adding to the current woes that appeared to be troubling her. He'd promised himself that he would not put off his conversation with her any longer, she may have been his employee, but she was also his friend. If there was something troubling her, he might be in a position to help. And so he took a deep breath, cleared his mind and opened the door to his office, determined that this time he would not be interrupted from giving his undivided attention to his receptionist in her time of need.


	9. Chapter 9

Yesterday might not have gone as planned, but at least she had been able to take the time to get the measure of the blonde bimbo that John had been sleeping with for the past few months, and what she'd seen had left her distinctly unimpressed. A perky southern tart who no doubt had less than two brain cells to rub together. This Calleigh Duquesne woman, she was no match for her - that she knew for sure.

What the hell was John doing, entertaining the idea of having a relationship with a woman like that? His latest squeeze seemed more interested in coddling him and keeping him wrapped up in cotton wool, rather than treating him like a man. John had been a virile and energetic when she had known him, what had his so-called friends done to turn him into someone so meek and quiet?

But that wasn't really the truth, was it? John had always been fairly even-tempered, especially when it came to her. He had always allowed her to scream and shout before trying his best to appease her, rarely raising his own voice to drown out hers. Yet she also knew that he could be capable of some harsh words himself, when pushed far enough. Still, there had only been a few rare occasions when he had ever really looked like losing his temper. Until a few days ago anyway.

The look on his face as he'd pushed her away had frightened her. She'd seen him angry, furious even, at times, but she had never seen that dangerous glint in his eyes, the slightly unfocused gaze as he pinned her with a glare. His face had blushed a deep red, as if it were taking all the control he had to keep his temper in check. Even his hands, the hands that used to set her skin on fire, they were shaking with barely controlled rage as he pushed past her, knocking down furniture as he attempted to get away from her.

Just what had those animals done to the man that she had loved? Had his dark days really changed him into someone that she no longer recognised? No, John was still there, his reaction to her touch had proved that he still had feelings for her, even if he tried to deny it to himself.

But why had this Calleigh woman installed herself as his saviour? John wasn't a man who needed mothering, yet this woman seemed intent on keeping him tied to her apron strings. His self-proclaimed protector had screamed at her that John wasn't well, she knew what they had done to him, she'd seen the marks, but they hadn't gone as far as to emasculate him completely.

_Let that bimbo carry on treating him like a baby, he won't stand for it for long, _she told herself as she perched on the edge of the bed in her hotel room. Perhaps her adversary didn't know John as well as she thought she did. No matter what the man had been through, he was strong and he was a survivor. He'd always seen himself as the one to protect others, never in need of protection himself. It had been one of the reasons that she had asked for the divorce in the first place, his need to coddle her had pushed her away, and now it looked as if his new girlfriend would fall into exactly the same trap as he had.

She'd been warned to stay away, by both the bimbo and Andy, but she had never been one to take kindly to being told what to do. The only way that she had ever had her needs met was by demanding what it was that she wanted, there was simply no time for pleasantries and small talk. What was the point of wasting time dancing round a subject? Experience had taught her that it was better to just say what you meant, it was certainly a lot quicker anyway. She was direct and to the point, it was what made her such a successful lawyer, it didn't really matter if she'd made friends or enemies along the way.

Having people who claimed to like you was overrated, friends came in and out of your life and always seemed to desert you when you needed them the most. No, the only person who looked out for you was yourself. Everyone else would be far too wrapped up in their own problems to give any consideration to yours. It didn't matter if people liked you, who cared how many people attended your funeral? It's not like you'd be there to see it anyway. No, the only things that really mattered in life were money and getting your needs met.

Well, she certainly didn't have to worry on the money front, between her career as a lawyer and the alimony payments that she received from Danny, she had been able to retire at a relatively young age. But after giving up her position at one of New York's most prestigious law firms, she had found herself at a loose end, something that became even worse when her children had graduated high school and left for college. She'd been grateful when Megan and Aaron had both been old enough to leave home, the constant arguing with her children had ground her down more than she realised. Why couldn't they understand that she didn't have that maternal instinct that all mothers seemed to have? Her children were turning into adults, it was about time that they flew the nest and found their own way in life. Her job was done, she'd raised them, fed and clothed them and given them the type of privileged education that most other children could only dream about.

She loved them in her own way, but she also yearned to be free of the responsibility of taking care of them. No one had ever taken care of her, and when they had tried to, she had kicked them to the curb and found someone new. Loving relationships just didn't last in her experience, sooner or later they would come to an end and she told herself that it was better to make a pre-emptive strike and leave her lover before they had a chance to leave her. Life had always worked out much better that way, there would be other men, other lovers, but you were only blessed with one heart in this life and once it was broken, there would be no fixing it.

Her children were still young and naïve, believing in the notion that love could last forever, and it pained her to think that the only way that Megan and Aaron would learn would be by having their own hearts broken. Other mothers might not have approved with her parenting techniques, but she was resolute in her determination to show her children a little tough love. Perhaps denying them that motherly affection had allowed them to be stronger emotionally than other people their age. What was the point of showering your children with love and affection for the duration of their formative years? It was setting them up to fail. They would enter the wide world outside, expecting everyone to treat them as if they were special, and it would be one hell of a rude awakening to them to find out that the real world was cold and unforgiving. When you were an adult, you were on your own, no one was going to come and kiss you better if you fell and skinned your knee. It was better that her children learned that at a young age, it would stand them in good stead for the future.

She was far too long in the tooth to give a damn about what people thought about her now. She'd made a career out of being underrated and disliked, it certainly held no sway with her that Andy and that Calleigh woman held little more than contempt for her. Their harsh words were meant to be threatening, didn't they realise that she'd heard all of that and worse in her time as a lawyer? A few idle threats and veiled promises of retribution were nothing to her. What were the going to do, physically harm her if she didn't go back to New York? John might have pushed her away, but there would be no way that he would allow anyone to hurt her. It'd been how he'd got into this whole sorry mess in the first place.

Kicking off her red high-heeled shoes, she smiled to herself as she raised her legs and rested her back on the comfortable cushions of her hotel bed. She doubted that her ex-husband had any idea as to what his friends had done, it certainly wasn't his style to send other people to fight his battles for him. John had always had a certain tenacity about him, that passion to see a job through to the end, it was one of the things that had attracted him to her in the first place. If John focused himself on a target, he would be the one to follow through, trusting no one but himself to get the job done. Although not arrogant, John was a man, and men had that stupid sense of pride when it came to their own abilities. He would not take kindly to the fact that an old man and a woman were taking it upon themselves to protect him from anything that they viewed as a threat to him.

Perhaps playing the long game would suit her better in this situation. Sitting back quietly, biding her time until John's blonde princess took a step too far, his patience with her would snap and he would come running back into her arms instead. From what she knew of the other woman, her own selfish need to mother John would inevitably push him away. She didn't need to do anything other than be at the right place at the right time. John would come to his senses sooner or later, and he would realise that she was the right woman for him. She wouldn't treat him as if he were made of glass, she would treat him like the man that she knew him to be. She would treat him like John Kelly, streetwise cop and self-proclaimed protector of the innocent. She would treat him like an adult and not hold her tongue around him. She would speak her mind, just like she always had. If he was out of line, she would not hold back in telling him so, knowing that he craved a lover, not a mother.

She had the financial means to stay in Miami for as long as she wanted, her children could take care of themselves should they decide to return home. Her place was in Miami, for now. It was as good a city as any other to spend time in and it sure didn't hurt that the weather was decent for the most part. The blonde bitch and Andy could only hide John from her for so long, but it was beside the point anyway. She didn't need to go to him, sooner or later he would come to her. And she would be ready when he finally knocked on her hotel door, ready to claim what was rightfully hers. What had always been hers.

She would give it a few days, lie low and give the impression that she had returned to New York with her tail between her legs, fooling those that wished to keep John from her that she had admitted defeat and slunk back home. Judging by the way that blonde woman had spoken about him, it was obvious that she saw John as some kind of needy little child or a vulnerable old man. Her ego, and John's sense of pride, would drive a wedge between them and he would come looking for the perfect reason to prove his masculinity to himself. They had always been so perfectly matched when it came to the physical side of a relationship and he would see her as a way of reaffirming his sexual prowess as a man. And she would let him too, perhaps he was too badly damaged by what had happened to truly love anyone again. But that would work well for her, she'd never really been that interested in anything but the physical side of their relationship. Maybe they would come to an understanding, that their renewed relationship would be primarily physical, that they could both come and go as they pleased, never demanding emotional intimacy from the other.

She could see it in his eyes the last time that they had kissed, she could see the passion override his rational thinking as he held her in his arms. She knew that, more than anything, he wanted to forget, he wanted to rid himself of the memories that were plaguing him and the sense of duty that he felt to those around him. He wanted to be selfish and lose himself in her, and she was more than happy to oblige him. She would accept his reluctance to open himself up emotionally, in fact, she would encourage it, glad that he would not place the unreasonable demands on her as he had before. They would sleep together and never demand more than unadulterated physical passion from one another. They would come together knowing that they had a warm body to return home to, without being pressed to open up and talk about their inner feelings.

John might not be the same man now that he had been twenty years ago, but that didn't mean that they couldn't make a relationship work. Perhaps now he was exactly the kind of man that she had been looking for all along. A man who was handsome and could please her on a physical level while being emotionally unavailable at the same time. It seemed like the perfect solution, John was the answer to the questions she had been asking herself these last few years. All she had to do was be patient and bide her time, never deviating from the kind of person that John knew her to be. Her blonde counterpart would be the architect of her own demise, her actions would cause the man that she claimed to love to run away from her suffocating presence and straight back into the arms of the woman who had always held his heart.

It would be with those thoughts in mind that she would stay exactly where she was, taking the insults from other people in her stride, keeping her eyes focused on the prize. And she would have him. Of that she had no doubt.

* * *

The duration of the flight from Miami International into JFK in New York had been a mercifully short one as far as Andy was concerned. He'd taken his seat next to his old partner and watched him surreptitiously from the corner of his eye. He didn't miss the way that the younger man gripped at his left hand and arm as the plane took off from the runway, wincing as he realised that the change in air pressure had likely caused a painful sensation to run through the damaged appendage. He'd offered John a couple of Tylenol, but the stubborn man had refused him repeatedly as he gave the same reply of 'I'm alright' over and again, even though the grimace on his face told him otherwise.

He'd not really had to worry about Kyle, the young man was on the other side of the plane, happily listening to music, safe in the knowledge that his father was being watched over by someone he trusted. Making small talk with John was futile, the man clearly had a hundred and one other things on his mind at the moment, no doubt going over in his head the worst case scenarios of what might happen when they landed. And so he sat back in his own seat, taking advantage of the free nibbles that were being offered by the buxom flight attendants, giving them a puffed-out chest and his most handsome smile in the hopes that one of them might pay him further attention.

He'd been certain that he'd caught the eye of one of the more mature air hostesses and was about to give her his cell number before chiding himself for thinking that he was making do with second-best.

_Beggars can't be choosers, old man._

Just as he was about to reach into his jacket and grab a piece of paper, he heard the captain over the tannoy speakers at the front of the aircraft.

_We're just about to land at JFK, could all passengers please remain with their seatbelts on. Thank you._

He silently cursed the suave-sounding pilot. No doubt the cocky young prick was devilishly good looking and had a string of air hostesses hanging on his every word. The guy probably got paid stupid amounts of money, too, and threw it around like it was nothing. _No, ladies like a man with experience. Just because you're retired, it doesn't mean that you're dead below the waist._

He was fairly sure that he could teach any of the beautiful young ladies on the plane a trick or two when it came to that kind of thing. His mind quickly turned back to the real reason he'd stepped onto the plane in the first place when he heard a sharp intake of breath from the man seated next to him as the aircraft made contact with the tarmac with a considerable bump. "You ok, kid?" he asked as he struggled to fasten the seatbelt over his considerable waist, although now that they'd landed, it seemed redundant to even have it on.

"I'm fine," was the terse response.

"Well, you don't look it." He shrugged his shoulders as John turned quickly in his seat and shot him a filthy look. "You know, you give me that glare so often that it's starting to lose effect now."

The plane taxied down the runway and finally came to a halt. It would be pointless trying to get off straight away, it would be easier to wait for the first throng of eager passengers to depart before he even considered lifting his hefty weight from the seat. John, for his part, sat stock still, his body rigid and tense. The strain the man was under was palpable, and it wasn't as if he could blame him either.

The last time John had been in New York had been as an undercover agent for the FBI. He'd been made to do some shocking things in that time and had been left with no option but to fake his own death and start a new life somewhere else. Well, those choices had been made for him by the spineless government agents who had got him into the mess in the first place, the same cowardly toads who had left him at the mercy of the newly-reformed Malucci gang. No, the last time John had been here he'd left under a dark cloud of hate and deceit. No wonder the poor guy was dreading stepping off the damn plane.

He assumed that John would have liked nothing better than to remain on the plane until it had made its return flight to Miami, that wasn't an option though, the last of the passengers had disembarked which now only left the three of them in the cabin. He heard the deep sigh from John as he caught the slow movement from the other man out of the corner of his eye. He raised himself and stood aside silently, allowing his former partner to trudge slowly from the aircraft, his shoulders weighed down with a considerable burden.

The taxi ride to the opulent hotel in Lower Manhattan had been made in almost silence. Kyle had done his best to engage his troubled father in meaningful conversation, but the most either of them had got out of the stubborn man had been a few one or two word answers at best. At least John had the good grace to apologise for his monosyllabic responses.

"Sorry, son. I'm tired….didn't get much sleep last night," John had told the young boy sheepishly, all the while looking as if he wanted to be anywhere in the world other than in a cab heading for the city of his nightmares.

Kyle had looked at his father with kind and compassionate eyes. Eyes so much like his father's. "You don't ever have to apologise to me, Dad. We'll help you get through this, I promise you."

The boy had been rewarded with a small smile from his old man. "I know you will. You're more than I deserve, Kyle."

The force at which Kyle had whipped his head round and pinned his father with a fearsome gaze had taken both he and John by surprise. "Don't ever say that. Family sticks together….and I don't care what you think of yourself….to me…you're the best father that I could have ever hoped for…..I just wish you'd see that too."

John had rubbed a tired hand over his face and given his son a bashful look. "You're right." John had opened his mouth to utter the words 'I'm sorry', but had been stopped by the glare both Andy and Kyle had given him as he slowly closed his mouth and returned his gaze to his hands, wringing them together repeatedly.

After checking in, the three men made their way to the expansive room that had been afforded to them for their stay in New York. The room was large enough to accommodate three beds, Kyle had offered to pay for another room out of his own pocket but his father would hear none of it. Truth be told, Andy hadn't really relished the idea of being stuck in a room with John, especially at night. What if the nightmares returned with a vengeance?

He knew that Kyle had much more experience with his old man and the night terrors that still assaulted him on a frequent basis, and he felt better for knowing that the young man would be able to calm his father quickly if need be.

Kyle had been eager to get outside and explore the metropolis that was New York, but one look at John told him that the older man would not be up for a jolly around the city. His friend looked up at him, almost as if he'd read his mind.

"Go and show Kyle around Manhattan. I'll be fine here."

He watched as John heaved his bag onto one of the large beds and began unpacking the few items that he'd brought with him.

"You sure? We could stay here if you want?"

John shook his head as he kept his gaze on his bag, his voice no more than a whisper. "No, I'm not good company today. You two go and have fun. I was thinking of having a lie down anyway."

The tone of John's voice left him feeling doubtful as to whether leaving him alone would be a sensible idea at the moment. But, if he'd learned one thing recently, it was that his old friend often needed time and space on his own every once in a while. Gone was the open and honest John Kelly, he'd been replaced by a man who was much more guarded when it came to his emotions. Hell, if it'd been him, he'd have wanted to break down and cry at being forced back to a place that held so many horrific memories for him. He could see the way that John was forcing himself to remain calm and still, he knew that it would only be a matter of moments before the walls that he'd built would crumble around him and he would fall apart. It was inevitable that it would happen, but the least he could do was make sure that the poor man didn't have an audience for it when his control finally slipped and raw emotion took over.

Grabbing one of the door keys, he grabbed his jacket and guided Kyle from the room, closing the door quietly with one last look back at his friend as he did so. As the two of them walked along the corridor, he prayed that John would let it all come out, a good purge of the system was likely what he needed right now. Today had just been the first step, there would be more difficult obstacles to overcome before they'd be finished here, and John would need all the strength he could get.


End file.
